130 Days
by BbuLeu
Summary: So, we know that Bulma invited Vegeta AND the Nameks to her home right after Namek blew up, but thehy had to wait 130 days before they could summon the Dragon. What happend in those 4 months?  I can't remember reading a fic based in this time period-WHY!
1. Arriving

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: I've read rather alot of B/V fiction, but I have yet to find one in that time between the invitation to CC and Vegeta leaving to find kakarot himself. I don't know why it's not a talked about much topic- oh curse my imaginations!

~I havn't fully finished this yet, but I want your opinions- **should I continue**? I'm hoping to add some real angst and fear and tension in this if only I knew it's worth persuing. This chapter is only to explain how they got there, so it's sucks badly.

~**R&R please x**

Chapter 1- Arriving.

"What about you? Hey homeboy! You're gonna need a place to stay too!"

Why did he agree? He could have simply scoffed and flew off until Kakarrot's return, He could have laid low until _he _returned, he could have survived in a cave for all the training and survival skills he grew up with.

But he had to get on that- weird flying box thing of hers along with those other Nameks. He managed to stand twenty minutes of the green freaks glares but then that black-haired banshee literally marched up to him and accused him of 'taking her little boy away', or something like that.

"I did no such thing!"

"Well, it was because of _your _arrival that my poor little baby was kidnapped!"

"You shouldn't have been so careless, then."

"H-how dare you-!" Chi chi's words were cut off at the sight of his glowing fingers pointed at her throat.

"Mum! Vegeta, no!" Gohan rushed between the two, his face was more panicked than angry though. Somehow, this made Vegeta even madder and he narrowed his eyes further and continued aiming right over Gohan's head.

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down! This is not right." His aim was punctured by Bulma's face. "Vegeta, could you please put your hand down? Just let it go-"

"Let it go? I will not sit back and be accused of something I had no hand in!"

From behind Bulma's shoulder, Chichi glared at him. "Yes you did!"

"Err, mum? Maybe we should go over there now…"

Bulma and Vegeta continued the stare off. "He's right Chichi. That longhaired Saiyan only took Gohan because Goku refused to join his side. Vegeta couldn't have planned that if neither know Gohan existed." She was still glaring at said Saiyan in front of her as Chichi sputtered in the corner. "But that doesn't give you the right to kill her, or even threaten her, Vegeta!"

Seconds felt like hours when he didn't move. His fingers glowed slightly brighter and Bulma whimpered slightly, lips trembling. Then, suddenly, he dropped his hand and popped the windows latch before jumping out. The onlookers shared a nervous glance- a remorseless murderer with a temper that challenges the devil had been set lose on Earth. Not a good thing. Bulma gulped and sat back down, knowing it was all her fault.

Mrs Briefs was already standing on the grass waiting for their arrival. The second she heard that her daughter was alive and well she'd literally jumped in the air and squealed with joy. Upon hearing of their numerous houseguests, she had prepared the spare dome (not just spare room, the whole spare dome!) and dressed up to greet them. When she saw the metal ship glinting in the sky, she suddenly felt very eager to hold her Bulma again. And that's just what she did the second Bulma's foot touched the grass.

"Hey, mum, missed you! Did dad tell you about our guests?" _All of them, except Vegeta… _Bulma thought sullenly. Looking behind her, their faces were lost in a sea of green—

Then something slid off the ships roof and leant against it. Something with mega tall black hair.

A smile worked its way on her face. If he's been there this whole time, then a huge weight was taken off her shoulders. At least nobody was dead so far- that was always a good start. Bulma smiled as if the whole incident in the cabin never happened.

"Well, guys, this is gonna be your new home for a while, it's not the Taj Mahal, but I think you're gonna like it!"

"Why, are you the one who helped Goku save my beautiful little girl from those horrible men? You should get a medal, you're a hero!"

_Oh gods, mother, why- __**why?- **__did you have to ruin it! _


	2. New Room, Nothing Else

Well, a week had passed since then and, surprisingly, everything felt good! The Nameks proved themselves courteous and clean guests, whilst Vegeta kept to his own room on the third floor. Either that or use the gravity chamber. It surprised Bulma just how quiet he was (not in a vocal, of course, _that _he was most defiantly not since he screamed his orders like a toddler), but how he never joined in, or how he'd sooner jump three stories to his window than walk through the hallways where he could meet any of them.

What really surprised Bulma was how his parents had taken to him- her mother outdid her self time and time again with her cooking and actually _loved _how important and needed it made her feel, and her father was in awe of Vegeta's regime in the GR, always upgrading, always asking advice of how to improve. Dr Briefs was left practically speechless when Vegeta nonchalantly revealed a tiny piece of information about basic alien technology (and secretly, she was too).

But, honestly, did he really have to avoid them to an extent where he couldn't change his clothes? Seriously, how often did he wear anything else? He was stuck on a foreign planet with nothing but the clothes on his back, and she shuddered at how often they must get washed.

That was why she carried a capsule of newly bought clean clothes in various sizes to his room. Knowing he was in the GR, she still couldn't help but knock and then walk in. Never before would she have hesitated in her own home, but she found herself speeding up whenever she had to walk past this door. _Like the great Bulma Briefs was afraid._

But after a few steps in, she felt almost terrified.

The curtains were drawn shut, causing the pale blue room to turn murky grey like plaster. The bed, too, was a darker shade of white with no patterns and one pillow. Even then, it looked like it had been ironed smooth. Bulma turned to open the wardrobe to put the clothes away herself, but found them bare. She suddenly felt so cold and miserable that she was tempted to just throw the capsule on the bed for him to workout later if something hadn't of caught her eye. Kneeling in front of the wardrobe, she picked up on of the many objects.

It was a picture of a sunny beach, the water turned white with sunlight. It was one of those generic homey pictures every interior designer insisted of owning to 'add a touch of summer' to the room. Vegeta must not like summer that much. Amidst other various photos that forced cosiness, she found a vase of plastic flowers that ' add a touch of fresh air'. He mustn't like that too much either. Then there was the mirror 'to make the room feel bigger'. Somehow, she didn't feel that Vegeta really cared about the size of the room much, but why else would he remove it?

Deciding it was better to just leave, she closed the doors and turned around, but didn't get very far when she saw the armchair in the corner. Again, it was greyish white and very uncomfortable looking. But it looked saggy as if it had seen too many arses smother it for too many years. If she could only touch it, she would swear it could tell her its stories.

"What are you doing in here?"

Bulma shrieked and spun so quickly that her feet slipped out from underneath her. She was face to face with the carpet but his feet were only inches away. She waited to see if he would offer her any help up but huffed when she realised she'd be a skeleton before that happened (if it ever did).

"Did you hear me?"

"Hang on a sec, I need to get up" she smoothed out her outfit and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Yes I heard you, it's impossible not to when you're shouting the odds, Vegeta. And as for why I'm here, I got you some clean clothes, so you don't have to spend every minute 24/7 in _that_!" she pointed at his chest, but stopped herself from actually touching him. "The very idea of it grosses me out!"

"It is none of your concern, _woman_. I refuse to wear such primitive alien rags."

That's it- it's hands on hips time. "Primitive ra- _they are not! _They're very good quality and very expensive, the least you can do is say thank… you know what? Forget it. You've done fine in that second skin of yours so far, what's four more months?"

"Don't be so disgusting. I clean them myself, idiot."

Bulma let her hands flop to her sides. "You…do? When? Where?"

"Just leave."

"But-?"

"Now."

"Do NOT tell what to do in my own house, Vegeta-"

He leant in really close; she could see each individual hair in his eyebrows, which were extremely sloped in the middle right now. "Fuck. Off."

She looked straight into that face. The sharp nose, strong jaw, the hard line of a mouth. But his eyes, his eyes bore into the back of her skull via her retinas. That's why she broke first, that's why she let her vision fall to the floor along with the rest of her face. She may have grown up a bit from that spoilt brat she was a few months ago, but she wasn't _that _strong!

"Err, okay…"

She was holding back her tears of fear as she gripped the door handle but his voice addressed her before she could leave properly. He didn't face her at all, didn't even look over his shoulder. "And Woman, if I catch you snooping around my quarters again… I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand. Do you understand me?"

Her face was crumbling in on itself but she forced herself not to cry. Letting out a squeaky 'mmhmm' she scurried down to her own room, lilac walls and fuzzy carpet. It was full of photos and souvenirs and there was a large mirror by her dressing table. So unlike his room, grim as a prison cell, lively as a mortuary, sharper than a hospital.

_He stays in a room, but it isn't his, _she thought_, he has nothing. Nothing._


	3. The Week After

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**:So, only a filler chapter. More to explain the thoughts of our Veggie, Bulma's change of heart and her plans that evening. Speaking of plans, next chapter is finished, but I may wait until tomorrow to share it. OH! And a big thank you for my reviews so far. Generally positive :)

~**Another A/N**: a couple of you are saying that the GR wasn't built until _after_ Mirai Trunks visits. But remember when Vegeta first came back he saw the ship and said _"I bet Kakarrot used a ship just like this"_ (ie, gravity), but after Mirai Trunks came, Vegeta asked for it to be upgraded from 100 G's to 300 G's. I just called it GR for the sake of simplicity :)

~**R&R x**

_I hate this room. I hate Kakarrot. I hate humans. I hate Namekiens. I hate Kakarrot. I hate Frieza. I hate his followers. I hate Nappa, Radditz and Kakarrot. I hate Kakarrot. I hate Kakarrot. __**I hate Kakarrot!**_

Vegeta would repeat this every night, as if he were in a trance. Soon, it would lull him to sleep like a twisted lullaby for a twisted child. _I hate Kakarrot._

But that first week was torture. Naturally a man of little sleep anyway, he became a down right insomniac when he was confined in his room during the dark hours. _I hate Kakarrot._

The night belonged to the Saiyans. Countless worlds drowned in their own blood when their own moons betrayed, welcoming Oozaroo's like party guests. And what a party it would be. The joy warriors would feel when he or she awoke from their ware-form was exhilarating, like you'd been stretched and grown more powerful yet experience no pain. It felt like a whole new body to them, in the sense that a snake sheds its skin. Now, with no tail, he would never experience that again. He was trapped in this body forever. Until he died _again. _And he never wanted to experience that for the rest of his life. It was only because his one and only wish was ripped away from him. Because Kakarrot was late. _I hate Kakarrot._

But after that first week, he managed to achieve one relatively 'good' nights sleep. Though his mood wouldn't have improved from the previous day, he felt like he could see clearer, hear better, breath deeper.

Then the blue haired woman interrupted it all.

Snooping around his room like it was her own. She threw away any rights to it the day she opened the door right in front of him, trilling a little "tadaa!" as she did so. She was just too damn happy for her own good. _Must be on drugs or something. Even then I bet they're weak, primitive highs._

And it wasn't just his room. She seemed to appear out of thin air wherever he went. His personal quarters, the kitchen, the trees in the garden. She was constantly tracking him down like a lost puppy and pestering him, asking him if he was hungry (usually yes), what he was doing just sitting there, was his room comfy, did he need anything- she will not shut up. And he found her voice- odd. Too loud, whiney. If he walked into a room filled with a hundred people all talking at once, he'd be able to pick out her voice. It was beyond annoying.

Well, that little display when he caught her red handed in the middle of the floor was more than enough the have her run in the opposite direction. He hadn't seen or heard from her nearly as much since then. But that didn't necessarily mean that she wasn't there. Her eyes constantly watched him when he within reach, as if he may strike when she let her guard down. At least there wasn't that sick innocent trusting crap there anymore. _Good. _

_That was better. _

You know, he's such a pig-headed, lousy, mean, scary jerk, and that's just on his good days! Sometimes, I really hate him!

Bulma was angry. It had taken a week of fear and anxiety, but when that was all washed out, she was fuming. She's woken up with the idea of confronting him- all she was trying to do was help! And if he couldn't see that, well then, he'd just have to leave. Mass-murderer or not, he was a terrible houseguest.

Fishing out her denim skirt and yellow halter neck, she planned on hanging in the CC park with the Namekiens today. It was nice to see how easily they managed to settle in and how easily they laughed. You'd never have thought they had no home and their leader Guru had just died. Actually, it was a surprise they were smiling at, no moping around like some people. Great, just when she'd managed to steer her thoughts away from him.

"My, what has my little baby all worked up today, huh?"

"Huh? OH! Sorry, mum…" Without realising, Bulma slammed the juice carton down a bit too hard and it spilt a few drops on the table. She sighed before continuing. "What's wrong with him?"

"With who, sweetheart?"

She looked into her mother's sunny face and frowned. "Vegeta, that's who. He's so tense and edgy all the time, it's just not normal."

"Well, if what Gohan and Piccolo tell me, he's not exactly had a normal life. I'm sure he just needs time to adjust to staying in one place. It can't be easy to suddenly stop being part of an army, dear." Bulma wasn't sure, but she had a feeling that nobody had told her parents that he wasn't really a soldier as much as a slave-

-A slave.

Oh gods, she felt so guilty then. Of course he wasn't going to act normal, not after all those years. And what was his normal? Killing, torturing, fighting? In that case, maybe it wasn't so bad to have a moper…

"I guess… so, where is everybody?"

"Well, all the Nameks are having a day of meditation. Piccolo told me it's some sort of holiday they celebrate. My, he is a tall man, isn't he? We're welcome to join them after sunset if you like, deary."

"And dad?"

"In the lab with Vegeta. They seem to get along together quite well, don't they?"

"Mum, Vegeta smashed half the test-tubes!"

The ditzy blonde was busy washing the dishes. "Your father really needed to clean up his lab anyway- out with the old and all that, don't you say? Vegeta was just helping him with a bit of spring cleaning!"

"It's not spring anymore."

"It's not too late."

Bulma realised the conversation was closing and ate the rest of her breakfast. Her day hanging with the Namekiens just went out the window, she had managed to catch up on her work, and there was absolutely nothing to do. Except shopping. Shopping…

He'd stayed in this tree all fucking day, unbelievable! Banished to the branches with no one for company except his own mind, even then it wasn't very good company. How dare that old man expect to use the prince of Saiyans purely as a guinea pig, only to dismiss him like a servant? He was no-ones slave, not anymore.

"Vegeeeeeetaaaaaa? Helloooo?"

Not her again. He closed his eyes and leant back against the tree. When he felt the tree shudder ever so slightly, he opened his eyes and looked down to see the woman had also decided to lean against his tree, though thankfully, she was looking towards to house.

She sighed quietly, "I don't know where that man goes, but once in a while I wish he'd just sit still. It's hard trying to find him when he can fly and I can't. Like Yamcha." She sighed again, this time louder. "…I miss you Yamcha…"

Vegeta didn't know who this 'Yamcha' was, but whoever it was, Vegeta didn't want to be compared to it. After waiting to see whether or not this woman was going to leave or not, he finally slid off his branch and landed in front of her.

Bulma released a short shriek after the dark shape appeared with a dull thud and slammed herself back against the tree, sliding down to the ground.

"V-vegeta!"

He just let out a dry chuckle. He wasn't going to laugh, but her reaction brought him close to. In the mean time, she had stood up, but was still fixed against the rough bark. Fear. He recognised it.

"Don't scare me like that!"

"I'll do whatever I like."

She huffed at him and attempted to wipe away the dirt from her bottom. "White shorts easily stain you know!"

His smirk lessened at her words. Her fear had rapidly deteriorated in place of annoyance. That was something he wasn't too keen on. "You weren't wearing them earlier."

She was still too busy straightening out her clothes, white shorts and red boob tube, to pay full attention to his words. "Yeah, yeah, but the Namekiens invited us all to celebrate with them tonight when the sun sets. Some sort of holiday. Which reminds me," She said, looking up, "My mums not cooking tonight since we're out all evening, so I'm ordering a take-away. Unless of course, you'd rather come with us?" She flashed him a small smile.

"Bah!" he spat, turning his back on her and stalking away.

"Hmm, too far, Bulma, girl. Too far." She was shaking her head.

It was only about half way back to her house did she pause. Did Vegeta just notice what she was wearing now? Did that mean he noticed what she was wearing earlier?


	4. Party

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N: **I'm a little nervous... my first OC, and I'm including a bit of made up Culture as well, so if you don't like it- I'm sorry :/ let me know what you think anyways?

**~R&R **please x

The party was in full swing in the CC Park. With the Briefs permission, colourful lanterns were nestled in the branches above them, casting shades of pinks, blues and green on the grass and Bulma's pale skin. She danced in circles the same way the other Namekiens did to the simple tunes. Within the past week, the skilled carpenters among them had used the fallen timber in the woods to make bowls, more tools and gifts for the Briefs generosity. Out of nowhere did they suddenly present these strange and alien instruments, the skilled musicians piping out the most intricate tunes. Bulma quickly learned the basic rules of their native dances- spin around, travel to one another, weave your hands in the air, simple moves that made you feel like you were not just dancing with your body, but with your soul. The very thought made her smile and pick up the pace.

Piccolo leant against the tree and tapped a foot to the beat, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was staring at the top of the dome where there perched a figure, silhouetted against the dark sky. Its jagged mane and stillness could have passed it off as a gargoyle but Piccolo knew better. The last thing anyone was for Vegeta to wreck havoc, especially on their night of piece. The Nameks were celebrating the end of "_Tel'amu Guru'a chil nech'I_", or "The week of Guru's passing" as Dende explained to the humans. After one week of mourning, they would be happy that life can continue even though death has graced their presence. _And we don't want him to visit again_.

Vegeta was livid. He didn't know why, but watching those frogs chant and spin around like imbeciles just made him confused. What did they have to celebrate? _Their rock was gone, their leader was gone, and they were constantly in debt to another_. If that happened to him, he wouldn't be dancing! He couldn't understand it and not knowing anything made him feel vulnerable. Feeling vulnerable made him angry.

His eyes caught that of the tall Namek, the one he's met before. He smirked when he saw the look in his eyes. _Don't do anything stupid_, it read. Vegeta's only thoughts towards the matter was, _The only thing stupid I could do it waste my time with a bunch of ballerina toads_. With that, he sprung into the air and disappeared. He would get much more satisfaction of proving that Namek wrong.

Gohan stumbled out of the crowd and towards his sensei with the biggest smile on his face. "Piccolo, why aren't you joining in?" he pulled on the Nameks arm but stopped when Piccolo continued staring into the sky. "Piccolo, what's wrong?"

When he was sure that Vegeta wasn't going to turn back, he smiled down at the boy. "Sorry kid. I don't dance. Go ahead, I'm fine here."

Gohan looked at him for a second, then smiled again and ran back (though to the other end of the crowd from his mother- Chichi could fight, but she couldn't dance. But was that going to stop her?) _Good kid_, he thought.

Meanwhile, Bulma dragged her way towards the edge of the pond and fanned herself. For such a peace-dwelling species they know how to rave, she laughed but her eyes were closed. She just needed five minutes to catch her breath, then she'd head back for another dance or two.

Still her here eyes closed, she placed her hands behind her to lean back, but stopped herself when it brushed against something hard but smooth. Looking down, she saw what looked like basic, dark wooden V8 engine to her scientific eyes, but palm sized. She'd not noticed it there, and didn't understand what it truly was until a voice sounded in front of her.

"You like my Pat'derra?"

She looked up to see a Namekien with a smile on his face. "Your what?"

"_Pat'derra_. The instrument I was playing earlier." He sat down next to her and crossed his legs. He held out his hand.

"Oh, sorry, here! I was just looking at it" she handed him the little wooden instrument.

"I was going to introduce my self, but thank you so much." They both laughed at her blonde moment as she started to turn pink. "I am Te'oboe."

"I'm Bulma."

They took a minute to watch the others party. Her dad must have taught them some basic (and very bad) earth dance moves because several Namekiens and the humans were now snaking their way around in a conga line that was only getting longer. How embarrassing!

"So… enjoying your stay?"

"Yes, very much so. You and your family are so kind, we do not know how to repay you for your hospitality."

"You don't have to. Just say thank you, that's all we want."

"Then we'll say a thousand thank you's instead." He smiled. When he nodded his head to wards her, she finally noticed that one of his antennae was missing and a pale green lind scribbled from its absence and down his neck like a river. A scar.

"What happened there?"

Te'oboe knew what she was talking about. "Before we discovered I was a healer, not a fighter."

"Ahh… I see." She looks away. No explanation needed for that one. Yamcha said something similar about his scars. Yamcha. _Party mood- gone_! She thought. A small tear threatened to leak out the corner of her eye.

Te'oboe saw this and patted her hand. "You do not have to tell me why, but I can see you're upset. Here," he took her hand and gave her the Pat'derra, "see if this helps."

"Oh, no I can't play music. I don't know how to use this!"

"Maybe not, but the soul makes music, not matter the sound. Try."

Bulma was shown how to hold it, and play by covering certain holes with your fingers, like a flute. Taking a deep breath in, she blew into the mouthpiece—

The squeak was horrific. It was like somebody disembowelling a squirrel and scraping their nails down a chalkboard.

The whole party stopped and stared. Bulma's mouth was a perfect 'o' in embarrassment. She had practically killed the mood. _I've probably broken it. Oh gods, what if I've offended them? Crap_! She sweat dropped.

Suddenly, everyone fell about laughing. The old one called Moori, some senior figure, called out, "When the child plays for the first time, the teacher becomes the Maestro! Te'oboe, please play for us…"

Te'oboe smiled and chuckled again before leaning back against a small boulder. He closed his eyes and poised the Pat'derra at his lips. When he started to play, Bulma noticed the others sitting before him, even the humans, listening. It started slow and sad, and Bulma felt close to tears again, but soon the beat picked up and she realised the tune wasn't so much sad as hopeful. She got up to join the dance.

~**A/N: **I managed to find a song that's similar to how I imagined Te'oboe's to sound like: Sweet Memories - Yuki Kajiura (.hack/LIMINALITY)... It's the closest thing I've found to how the song is in my head.


	5. Places To Go, People To See

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: Wow, got some really great v=reviews from you guys, I love reading them! Thank you

~ Sadly, been stuck with a load of revision, homework etc... so things have been slow (but I always make sure I have a little time to myself every now and then!) BUT then things have been, ehem, _turbulant _at home, and I instantly face writers block because of it, so sorry for the wait :)

_She was ambling down the hall on the third floor, her red sandals swinging from her lose fingers, and she was dizzy from the celebrations. Not a drop of alcohol passed her lips, but she felt drunk from the music. All night long she'd been spinning in circles until she felt like her eyes were made of kaleidoscopes. She hummed a happy little tune she'd learnt._

_Then she heard something. It sounded like something being dragged, something big and metallic. It was coming from Vegeta's room, but when she started to head towards it, the door scooted away from her. 'What the…?' Another step, another metre or so it crept away. Though she can't remember moving, she could see her legs running without her consent towards it. Almost there… Just a little bit more…_

Bulma woke slowly, confused as to how she was curled up in her bed instead of running like she had been. She couldn't remember how her dream started, or how it ended for that matter, but it gave her the chills like you would not believe. That's odd. Why would I dream up something like that?

Figuring it was better to get ready for work rather than ponder, she headed for her en suite. By the time she walked into her office, she's forgotten all about it.

It was a good thing, being vice-president of Capsule Corp, you know. Her time in the office may have doubled from when she worked in the "good ol' lab", but her father still ran the major sections of the company. Which is why, with all her paperwork finished, she signed out for the rest of the day, starting with a leisurely lunch- a small picnic in the park, only minutes away from where the party was last night. Armed with a bag of Duck and Hoi sin wraps, diet coke, a doughnut and a think glossy magazine (it was How it Works, but it was still think and glossy), she sunk onto the cool, soft grass. This is the life…

She had her eyes closed as she sunbathed but her lids were bright orange from the sun but then something blocked the light, turning the orange into brown again. Her soft features screwed up for a second before she opened them. The Namek from last night was upside down as he leant forward to look at her. He smiled when he saw recognition cross her face.

"I was told earthlings did not use __photosynthesis."__

"No, but we look better with some vitamin D in us. Join me?" she laughed, sitting up. "Teeyabo, isn't it?"

"Te'oboe. _Tay-Oh-Bo_. And you are Bulma. The one who cannot play music, but whose dancing skills make up for that."

"Oh, so that's how you know me?"

"Everyone does."

They sat there for a while, remembering last night and talking about their day so far. Despite their obvious differences, he was easy to talk to and utterly pleasant company. Bulma felt like she knew a lot more about Namek than she ever thought she could and Te'oboe felt at home on this strange rock. They met again the next day, and the day after that, then the day after that. By the end of the week, Bulma forgot was her lunchtimes used to consist of- sitting on your own or with boring old corporate sharks, neither appealed to her. Everyday bought a new discussion, a new laugh.

"What is that?"

"Hm?" she stopped what she was doing and looked at him. "What is what?"

"What you're drinking."

Holding up her bottle, she read aloud, "Lemonade. It's fizzy water that's had lemon fruit flavours mixed into it." She passed the bottle to him. "I don't think it'll hurt you. Try some. Go on!"

Te'oboe looked doubtful for a second, then popped the cap and took a small swig. He blinked twice and looked thoughtful. He suddenly burst out screaming and rubbing his emerald face, which was severely creased up.

"_ARGH_! It burns! Ew, disgusting" he looked across at Bulma who was giggling at his outburst. The sight of his watery eyes made her laugh harder. "Why would you drink that stuff?" he shuddered again and again.

"Because I can!" Was her simple remark.

_"Because I can!"_ Vegeta could hear her tinkling laughter bounce between the yellow domes she called her home. Even in his room, sitting in his chair with the window partially closed, the echo jumped straight into his mind and slapped him awake from his meditation. She was with that Namek again, the one with the scar, fiddling with some high-pitched instrument like a pansy. The sound of that hurt his head too, and he's begun to hear it whenever they met, which was more or less everyday for the past month. If I have to face three more months of this…

He decided that sitting around and hoping for it to stop wasn't going to work to marched to the window and took off, his stiff hair momentarily wavered before springing back to normal. His brilliant, tactician mind had already finished working up a plan before his feet left the windowsill- land before them, arms crossed, mock them, wait for pathetic retort. Demand they stop that racket. If they refuse, blast them. If they retaliate, blast them. Laugh. Simple plan, really, it had worked thousands of times in his life. He handed out fast-track tickets to the next dimension in his 'profession'.

But he skidded to a stop mid air when he saw them walking in opposite directions, waving to each other. He'd missed his chance again. Now what? His fists loosened when his opportunity for some fun passed by, normality (for him, anyway) slipped though his fingers. Vegeta looked in every direction for something, anything. His arms crossed he frowned and closed his ebony eyes.

In one word, Vegeta was _bored_, but what was there on Earth that could possible entertain the Prince of all Saiyans?

Slowly spinning in the air, his smirk released a dark chortle. He didn't exactly know where he wanted to go, but he knew exactly whom he wanted to see. Thanks to a couple of tricks he'd picked up from the earthlings, he was nothing but a line in the sky from his inhuman speed pointing towards his destination.

__**A/N:** oh dear... where's he off to? And just when I thought he was behaving himself ;)


	6. The Little Shack

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: I don't know exactly when, but I promise to upload the next chapter soon. What with school and family it's been hard. Oh well, at least I'm seeing my fave band _live _tomorrow :'D

"Gohan! Gohan! Oh, where is that boy? Gohan!" Chichi groaned as she turned away from her sons open window. Even whilst she was stomping all the way to the kitchen, she was grumbling. "How could he ever expect to get into good schools and make something of his life if he doesn't catch up on all his homework? He complains about how much there is, but he was the one who wanted to leave and got to Namek! And a fat lot of good that did!"

The plate in her hand slipped from her grasp, but since it was only an inch or two above the table, it slammed down without any damage. The brunette though didn't feel so lucky as she threw her face in her hands.

"Oh, Goku, why did you have to die?" she spent a good ten minutes sobbing her heart out, but forced herself to carry on. She may be a widow, but she was also a mother. A mother of a child who will be home soon, or he'd regret it!

Then she had a brilliant idea. What was that saying?_ If the Mohamed won't come to the Mountain then the Mountain must come to Mohamed…_

Vegeta's eyes were twitching under his dark solid eyelids as he focused. Although he could now sense and pinpoint Ki, he still found it difficult to keep track of it for so long, whilst speeding through the air.

"Damn it, where is that little brat! He must be around here somewhere… Ah!" he located a tiny little building nestled in a valley all on its own, riddled with left over ki's like smells wafting around in a kitchen and staining the air. Looking down upon it, he briefly regarded how small it looked dwarfed between the mighty peaks, but as he dropped down close by, he realised that it simply small altogether, no matter how far away it was. Even the doorframe barely reached above his gloriously tall mane, and he (grudgingly) knew that he was only a little man.

Never one to bother with such manners as keeping the wooden door intact, our prince was seconds away from storming in and dragging the pathetic boy outside himself.

But there was no need. There was not a single present Ki from within. He'd come all this way for nothing. But just because there was nobody to drag out it doesn't mean he'd go…

His fists took on a life of their own as they pummelled everything in sight until there was nothing but air, until something else became another unfortunate victim. So focused was he in destruction that he was oblivious to the pain from his bruised knuckles, the sting in his eyes and the ache in his lungs, The lump in his throat finally cleared as he roared with everything he had, he was just so angry. Falling to his knees, he forced himself to calm down…

Gohan knew if he carried on like this then he was bound to hurt himself very badly. But no matter how hard he tried, the little soldier couldn't stop the steady flow of tears on his flushed cheeks. His head hurt, his chest hurt, his hands and feet hurt, basically he had felt agonizingly heavy since he woke up with only one thought slamming into his brain every thirty seconds. I_ miss daddy. He sniffled again. I miss daddy. I miss daddy. I miss- huh? Whose Ki is that?_

Feeling the Earths golden star on his green skin, Piccolo had opted for meditating for the rest of the day. It had been a long time since he had a little privacy, what since training to fight Goku, training to fight the Saiyans, dying, being resurrected then fighting Frieza. It took a lot out of you.

Then again, Gohan didn't seem to be doing so badly. Piccolo had kept a watchful eye out for his student, expecting him to lash out like any other seven year old would; especially after all he'd been though. But then again the boy surprised him, taking it all in his stride. Despite the obvious grieving for his own father, Gohan proved himself to be a strong young man.

Gohan was fine for one day, the other Nameks were settling in and he had not heard a peep from Vegeta for a few days now- until a massive Ki flared up towards the east. _Great, spoke too soon._

Pushing open the door (like any normal person, that is), the only sound was a low creak and his equally low grunt of amusement. This place offered no danger, but sneaking around where you shouldn't always stimulated him, urging him further into the little shack, undoubtedly a peasants place, from the sight- and smell.

The first thing he walked into was what looked like a kitchen- massive stove, table and dishes. It smelled like bread and the walls were very yellow. Anybody who walked into this kitchen would immediately feel at home and relaxed, even happy. Of course Vegeta hated it with a passion.

Releasing one displeased grunt, he wanted to explore the rest of the place, just to see if his suspicions were true. It was- every room was yellow and every room was "homey". There were a couple of quilted beds and a plain (but very clean) bathroom, nothing to even slightly amuse him here. He walked straight back to the kitchen to take his leave.

Though there was something that caught his attention, something he dismissed earlier. There was a display cabinet by the far wall, topped with photos and knick-knacks like little dishes with intricate floral design. Obviously, these little wooden selves held someone's most precious belongings. But he wasn't looking at the fancy plates or the cuddling figurines. He was staring solely at one photo at his eye level. Kakarrot.

Indeed, the younger Saiyan was blushing with the black haired harpy clinging to his arm. She was wearing something white and frilly, he was wearing something just as disgusting. Underneath, the photo frame read "our wedding" in the curliest writing he'd ever seen. Right next to that, was a picture of a chubby child with a oversized hat on. This time, the photo frame read "Gohan".

Is this it? Is this all that happened to him- _a super Saiyan_? Live here? Of course, Vegeta knew Kakarrot was only a third class- but this place was beyond demeaning for any pureblood. This puny, tumble down shack houses the one who defeated Frieza- that's sickening! Vegeta felt… he felt…nothing. He didn't feel very angry, or frustrated, or even necessarily sad. He felt-

Someone walking towards him. He closed his eyes and smirked, the photo completely and utterly forgotten. When he heard the door creak open slowly, his mind whispered, I knew I wouldn't have to wait very long.

Vegeta drew himself up to full height and turned around, arms tight across his chest.

"Well, well. Look who we have here…"

~oooooh who's there ? R&R and let me know who you think it might be- you know who's in the area...


	7. Monster

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: Well, it's been one week and one day :) finally found a little spare time to upload this. *yayy!* What d'ya reckon? **R&R** ?

"Well, well. Look who we have here…" Vegeta smirked wickedly at the figure in the doorway, noting how recognisable the silhouette was. "What's the matter? Lost your tongue?"

The figure blinked twice before recovering, and in the most unique voice known to man, Bulma stuttered, "V-Vegeta?" She gulped nervously. She'd expected to see Chichi rushing around preparing tea and not the Prince of Saiyans, so solid and still he reminded her of those statues you see in museums or churches where they'd be watching over the old graves, the statues where you think it's staring at you.

_"V-vegeta?"_ she repeated, the hand on the door handle getting tighter and tighter.

"What are you doing here anyway, woman? Why did you follow me?" he all but growled. _Witch probably saw me fly away and thought she could stop me- Me! Pathetic!_

"I-I didn't! I came to drop off some books Gohan left at mine the other day. What are you doing here?"

His eyebrow shot up as he smirked like a pantomime villain. "Me? I just came for a little _visit_…"

She didn't like how his words drifted off at the end. "What did you do with Chichi and Gohan, Vegeta?" After recovering from her initial shock, anger quickly found its way into her fine features.

Vegeta saw this and his smirk lessened. Once again, they were accusing him of something that he didn't do. He didn't mind being blamed, but only when he knew he was guilty. _Then again, in Frieza's army, you were punished whether or not you did the crime…_

His eyes glazed over ever so slightly as voices started to echo just out of his impeccable hearing range, but luckily Bulma just thought he looked bored, something that infuriated her in the current situation. He may have lived a life of rape, purging, murder, thieving, torture and sin, but he was not going to just stand there and ignore her! "_Well?"_

This time, he was the one to blink hard and glare darkly at her before turning back round. "Hmph. Nothing. I know it's hard for your idiot self to believe but I have done nothing wrong. This shack was empty and the door was unlocked. I don't know where your idiot friends are."

With her hand still firmly wrapped around the door handle, she regarded him from behind. His shoulders were tense- tenser than usual, meaning he was either very_ angry_ or _defensive_. Bulma had started to learn about how Vegeta to read him. Saying it was hard was an understatement, but slowly she began to understand him, even a teeny tiny bit, and the scientist developed her own set of rules when it came to the intense Saiyan. If he was getting angry and defensive over the assumption that it was his fault, then it mostly likely wasn't true. If it were, he'd own up to it instantly, probably laughing and holding up their severed heads as proof. Besides, what has he ever said to her that wasn't true?

Finally deciding to walk out of the doorway, she walked towards him one hesitant step at a time. When he reached him, she decided that if was 'safer' to stand next to him, rather than behind him as he had a tendency to blame her of 'sneaking up on him'. That was one of the rules she'd learnt. As she fidgeted by his side, playing with her hair or holding her hands together, she was amazed to see him staring solely at the pictures on the treasured shelves. Again, his eyes were glazing over but he didn't look bored like last time. He looked, well, blank. It really didn't suit him.

"Chichi looks beautiful there, doesn't she? And Goku looked ok, but I thought it looked funny that he was frillier than the _bride_." She chuckled slightly before the awkward silence filled the room again. He appeared not to have heard her.

"But then again, he hasn't worn anything like that since… thank goodness…"

Nothing still.

"Gohan's sweet there, isn't he?"

Nothing again. _Is he deaf or something?_

She was about to give up when she looked at a lower shelf. Smiling, she held it up to her face. "Ah, I love this photo…"

"What?"

Bulma whipped her head to him. _At last- it speaks_! "This is my favourite photo. Look…"

Vegeta hesitantly took it from her and looked at it. Although that moment was captured forever, eternally still and silent, it was obvious that they were having the time of their life. A young Bulma with purple hair clung to the shoulders of an embarrassed looking young man with scars all over his face. A small boy with a red pole strapped to his back and unruly black hair was upside-down, hanging onto the young man's other arm with his—tail.

"I was about sixteen there. Or seventeen. Goku was about five."

"What the hell is wrong with your hair?"

Of all the things to say… "I dyed it purple then. My dad used to have purple hair before he turned grey, it runs in the family. It just sort of skipped me, I guess. I wanted it because of that, but then I thought that my natural colour suited me much better. And I thought that style looked cute then, but now…"

"And were you so stupid that you regularly forgot your own name?" Vegeta smirked at her and pointed at her teenage dress with BULMA printed across her chest.

"NO! Loads of people did that, it was the style!"

He looked at her closely. "Yeah, right."

She looked at him then, like really looked at him. For the first time in living memory, his comments weren't meant to be hurtful, but just wind her up. Her eyes glowed with understanding- he was teasing her!

"Urgh, you really know how to annoy me, don't you?" she was only half angry at him, though. If he could tease her like this, then she most certainly can too!

"I'm just stating the facts. It is not _my _fault that you are the one whom is easily annoyed-"

"Look who's talking! Besides, this proves that you have utterly no fashion sense, unlike my great self. Now if only I could replace your run down armour some of my _wow-factor_…"

"Forget it. I will never wear what you call fashion." Waving a hand at her pink and yellow floral dress.

Although he was still sneering at her and insulting her, he wasn't hurting her, or scaring her or anything- heck, by these standards, she'd even call him civil. She thought she'd try her luck whilst he was in his 'good' mood.

"Goku still had a tail then…"

He snapped his head away with the darkest look he could muster then forcefully slammed the photo back on its shelf, facing down. There was the tinkle of broken glass. _Well, well done Bulma, girl. That was fanfuckingtastic!_

"Yes! And what good did that do? None! Moon or no moon, he never transformed, otherwise this planet would be a smouldering ruin drifting through space right now-"

"He did." Bulma said in a small voice.

Vegeta was on his way towards the door again but looked over his shoulder at her words. "He couldn't have."

"He did! I-I was there!" She suddenly felt the need to sit down in a nearby kitchen chair and it skidded on the wooden floor. "I saw this little kid- this really nice little kid _just_… his eyes and- and his teeth! Poor Goku." One of her worst memories was watching the most innocent morphing into the most deadly. Looking back on it that was the night she well and truly watched at her life flash before her eyes. "Oh, it still freaks me out even now…" she confessed in a small voice and wiped away a stray tear.

"It shouldn't freak you out."

"I know, Vegeta, but it does. But then again none of us even knew what was happening to the poor little guy at the time, but thanks for understa-"

"You cannot freak out over anything once you are dead."

All she did was stare at him with wide eyes. He chuckled at her lack of reaction from the usually fiery female.

"What's the matter, woman? Too shocked to speak?"

Her head was every so slowly shaking as her voice croaked out, "It wasn't Goku. It was a monster."

"It was an Oozaroo, and don't you forget it! On moonlit nights a whole army of us would sweep away a city like dust under a rug! The Saiyan race would not have been if not for our Were-forms and we were proud of it. I myself was a particularly strong one, even without a real moon!"

_Monster_, her mind echoed. "But, it's only a Were-form, not really you! You just lost control, the moon must have completely overrode your mind-"

"Only if not trained, woman. I knew exactly what I was doing the whole time."

Her watery eyes watched his face as he told her his stories, of the planets he'd crush, of the skies he'd burn, the blood he'd spilled. There was no compassion, no regret in his eyes. Only amusement. How could he?

"… So, are you ready to run yet? Or are you going to just sit here and blubber like a child? It looks like there are already some tissues here for you…"

Bulma looked at the end of the table and sure enough there were some used withered tissues there that she'd missed earlier.

"Oh… oh, Chichi…"

"Is that the banshees name?" …Sissy name.

"Yeah… she must really be missing Goku to cry this much. She's not the sort that cries easily- hey!"

Vegeta snatched the tissue out of Bulma's hand and held it in his gloved palm, white on white. Suddenly, it burst into flames and his fingers caged the pulsing orange glow before her until there was nothing but ash, black on white.

The blue haired woman couldn't believe it- a widows tears were singed to nothing by this cruel man like they were no more than liquid tinder. Her blood ran cold before boiling with pure fury, _"Why the hell did you do that?"_

Vegeta, who had laughed at her reaction, clapped the ash from his hands, like he'd just finished a long and difficult task.

"Because I felt like it."He turned on his heal and marched out the door. At least he found something interesting to do today.


	8. Tissues & Tails

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~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: Just 2 more exams! 2 more weeks! (well, 3 technically, as I'm off to Tenerife with a few of my girls for a week :D) but generally, I'm looking forward to a little "me time". I managed to find some time to upload this :) enjoy!

~**R&R please x**

Gohan stood still as a statue, staring at the sky. Just seconds earlier, he felt a flicker of Ki on the horizon and he knew exactly who it was. Every Ki was unique, but there was a handful of Ki's that Gohan recognised no matter the distance. Which is why he waited for him to fly overhead, his arm over his eyes to shield them from the brilliant sun in the brilliant blue sky and the brilliant white clouds.

Amongst the blue flashed emerald as Piccolo burst through the clouds with his own cape of white. Landing directly in front of the boy, the huge Namekien barely made a sound, apart from, "Gohan."

"Ehem, hi Piccolo…"

Gohan suddenly found the grass at his feet fascinating as his arm snaked its way behind his head, scratching it in a very Goku-like manner. He'd been caught out.

"Your power had increased dramatically that I almost didn't recognise it. I had to see for myself if anything was wrong."

"Nope, nothing wrong here. I was just training." Piccolo could see the stains on his face from his tears; the boy's eyes were still watery. _You've been pushing yourself too far, Gohan. I know things must be hard for you with what's happened to your dad…again… but too much power can be dangerous._

What he actually said was, "Your training must be working then."

"Yeah… so, err. What brings you here?"

"I felt a huge surge of Ki from somebody. Now that I've discovered it was only you, I know there's no threat," said Piccolo, shrugging off his cloak. He threw his turban aside and stood before the boy. "Let's see what you've been up to."

Gohan, who had felt embarrassed and uneasy since sensei arrived, suddenly looked up into his green face and smiled faintly. "I'd love to, Piccolo!" his young features dulled slightly as he seemed to remember something. "But my mum will be worried about where I am. And I haven't finished my homework yet."

Suddenly, the bushes by the side of the clearing rustled a bit and, speak of the devil, out popped Chichi, carrying a basket with a red and white chequered blanket.

"_Gohan!_ There you are, I've been looking all over the place for you. Why did you leave without telling me?"

"Geez, mum, I'm sorry. I guess I just needed some fresh air or something, I promise to make it up to you…" Gohan gasped slightly when he realised his mother wasn't wearing that typical pissed off expression he'd expect her to wear. She looked generally relieved to find him, offering him a little smile.

"I suppose… it's ok. Just for today, Gohan. Now," she sighed, lifting up the woven basket, "is my little boy hungry yet?"

Gohan just gulped and stared at her. "Are- are you feeling ok?"

"I'm feeling perfectly fine. Now sit down and eat your lunch, you need to keep your strength up." As she was speaking, she flapped the blanket onto the soft green grass.

"I don't think that'll be too much of a problem for him." Piccolos baritone voice rung out. Chichi ignored him, as usual.

Just as Piccolo turned away, Gohan took a step forward. "Hey, Piccolo, do you want to join us? You can have my water, if you like." Looking back towards his mother sitting cross-legged on the blanket, he added, "If it's alright with my mum?"

Chichi deeply considered his words. Have that green monster sit with them, joining in on their picnic, their mother-son time? It's not like they do this sort of thing often, not since before Gohan was brutally snatched away, left alone and defenceless in the wilderness where anything could have happened. Because of **him**! The very same alien who, year after year, swore to end her husband's life. _And her son wanted him to join them?_

But, then again, it was because of him that Goku survived the Saiyans. And he had kept Gohan alive at least. It must have been Piccolo that sorted out his tail, the thing that freaked the mother out when her tiny baby was born. Before she had even picked him up from between her legs he had curled his tail around her knee in the most loving way. _Her little baby boy._

Chichi suddenly realised, sitting on that blanket that her son may have, sadly, turned into a fighter but he was a damn good one because of this man. Just because Gohan wasn't devoted entirely to his studies, it doesn't mean he couldn't be a scholar. _He could be both. He could turn into one of the most important men in this world with a little help from me and… and Piccolo._

Though she hated the man to turn her baby into a boy, and who will eventually turn him from boy to man, she would do anything if it were for the best for Gohan. He may have taken her child away, but she knew, deep down, he was alive and well somewhere thanks to the ex archrival of Goku. He was now their friend.

"Sure, join us. Why not…"

Two hours later, all the food had gone and the afternoon would soon turn to evening, though the sun was still warm. Piccolo had decided to return to the other Namekiens for the remainder of the day as Gohan and Chichi strolled back home with a bunch of wild flowers tucked into the foodless basket. It had been a nice afternoon, with little talk between the mother and the alien, but the boy had spoken enough for both of them put together.

As home came into sight, so did a yellow hover-car with a big black CC logo on the side, but seemingly no Bulma inside. "What? Why would Bulma's car be here but not her?" As Chichi muttered this, she heard a soft sobbing noise from within. The front door was ajar and both her and Gohan walked in to see Bulma's blue head resting on her folded arms across the table and hear the sobs come oust as chest-shuddering cries of sorrow.

"Bulma? What's wrong?" Gohan skimmed across to her side and held her shoulder. She looked up suddenly at his touch, as if she hadn't realised that they were home. She tucked her face into her arms again at the sight of Gohan's concerned young face.

"Gohan, go upstairs and study for a while. I'll come up and see how you're doing later."

Gohan wanted to comfort his friend but knew better than disagree with Chichi right now as he tiptoed up the stairs. Chichi immediately set to work brewing a pot of tea, noticing that a photo on The Shelf was facing down. Picking it up, she saw that it was one of Goku's favourite pictures of his childhood with his best friends. She saw the glass underneath. The tinkling noise must have upset Bulma more since she wept just that little bit louder.

Finally, tea poured and tissue box at the ready, Chichi sat down and grabbed Bulma's free hand. "Want to tell me about it?"

With her growing aqua hair falling around her face, Bulma studied the brunette. She and Chichi hadn't always been what you'd called friends, but they shared a comradeship that had grown stronger over the years, especially since Chichi had thanked Bulma for keeping Gohan safe on Namek (especially as no one had told her any specific information that lead her to believe otherwise). She grabbed the tissue that Chichi was holding out for her.

"Oh Chichi. I- I can help it. I don't really know why, but recently I feel so, so left behind or something. Is it only one month ago that Namek happened? And preparing to go there, and before that the threat of Saiyan invasion- and that lasted a whole year! I mean, so much has happened in only a few years, yet I'm not going anywhere! I'm vice-president of CC but also going on life threatening adventures- it's become _so_ big a part in my life that I'm just not sure I can be both anymore and I'm running out of time to decide."

Looking up to Chichi, she saw the brunette was simply watching and- amazingly- listening.

"And I have to decide soon, whether I want to be normal or not. I'm only human and unlike the Z-fighters I'm no good in battle. Even you could bring down the scariest of men in town without breaking a sweat. Heck, you even tamed Goku, the strongest being in the known universe!"

"But how exactly do you feel? Right here, right now."

It took her a short moment to sum up one word. "_Lousy. Feeble_. That everything important around me feels unimportant and everything unimportant feels important- did that just make any sense?"

"You mean, like feeding yourself feels like a waste of time, but what you decide to wear is the most vital decision of the day?"

_Not exactly_. "Well-"

"Because that's how I feel, too." Chichi lowered her eyes and mumbled through a small frown. "That's how I feel everyday when Goku is gone. Every waking moment I can feel his absence yet- it feels like right next to me. I see him smiling or waving at me in the corner of my eye but whenever I blink or turn around- he's gone again."

Bulma's tears had stopped at the other woman's confession caused her own tears to flow and her speech to continue. "I know you're not married to Yamcha, but loss is still loss and pain is still pain."

Bulma gasped slightly at her words. Chichi actually thought she was crying over Yamcha's death, not that fact that Vegeta had basically told her that her oldest friend had been sent to kill, like a demon from Hell. No, _Vegeta_ was the demon; _Goku_ was more like an angel sent to protect Earth. That and the fact that Chichi's tears had only fuelled his amusement. She had always known he was cruel and evil but today he had been downright monstrous.

Now Bulma just felt guilty. She had cried several times over the loss of her beloved boyfriend during the past month, but now she was crying over something else entirely and she felt like Yamcha had been pushed down the 'to do list' for something she shouldn't even be crying over. Vegeta hadn't changed, it's not like his attitude was something new and out of character, but she still felt very hurt by what he said. What kind of girlfriend was she?

This time, it was Bulma to offer a clean tissue. "Chichi, I…"

"You don't have to explain to me, Bulma. The first time it happened, I put all of Goku's clothes in the attic because I couldn't bear to see them unused. I even cooked for my boys, only to throw it all away afterwards. What's one broken photo frame?"

Bulma nodded. She was going to tell her about her run-in with Vegeta, but stopped herself; it'd blow Chichi sky high to hear that he had broken into her home looking for some entertainment. "I just came to bring these books. Gohan must have forgotten them when you came the day of the party."

"Thank you," said Chichi, patting the books next to her on the table. "I hope Gohan will be okay…"

"Are you kidding? I've seen that boy almost every other day for the past month. He seems fine to me. You told me the other day his grades were improving and his appetites back."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he's like that all the time. Most of the time he is, but occasionally I catch him- looking odd. He would just stop whatever he's doing and remain still, and his eyes would completely lose focus. Like he's staring at something that isn't there. You'd call his expression bored, but I know. I know he's not okay. He looks _haunted_, Bulma." Chichi was wringing her tissue so much it snapped in her hands.

Suddenly, her back straightened. Clearing her throat, Chichi looked up at her. "Thank you. For listening to me, that is. I just don't really have a lot of people to talk to." She sniffed. "I'm getting a private tutor for Gohan. Mr Shu. I've heard he's had some good results from his past students. I'm hoping that Gohan might be a little distracted until his father comes back. Only three more months now."

"Sounds like a good idea, Chi." Bulma forced a smile at her. Although Bulma just felt ten times worse because of the guilt, she was also relieved that someone had taken the time and effort to cheer her up, only to breakdown crying themselves. Bulma was determined to return the favour. "Tell you what, I'll pay for the tutor."

"No, I can't ask that of you-"

"Really, I mean it. You've helped me today, and Gohan deserves the best." Saying that something was the best of her baby instantly shut up the brunette. "I'd better go home now."

Vegeta was pacing in his room, behind closed doors and away from the world. He'd done the same whenever he stayed in Frieza's army and over the years had trained his stomps to be silent- heavy feet could betray any façade of calm and restraint that would immediately make you look suspicious.

_That damn, pathetic, intolerable, dim-witted, nosey woman! She dare to speak of my race as mere apes, slaves to a moon, if only she knew what danger she'd really be in if I were the one to transform…_ instinctively, he dropped his crossed arms to clutch at his waist but found no tail there. Every now and then, he'd forget his lost appendage, a tiny jolt of panic shooting through his mind. How he missed it so, holding him securely through all these years.

His tail set him apart from the rest of what Frieza called an "army". Sometimes, when he was looming over some pathetic alien, all it took was one twitch from the tip of it and the coward would practically piss itself in fear. That always made him roar with laughter so loud he could barley hear the cowards last breath. He especially enjoyed using it on some females, the pretty ones worthy of his time. He'd look at them straight in the eye, as he remained motionless with only his tail dancing its way onto their bodies. _At least he could safely say he didn't lay a finger on them_. Some would shout and shove against him, some sobbed quietly as they realised what he wanted. Some, he found, would simply say nothing, look at nothing. In the end, they'd all end up screaming, either in agony or in pleasure. It didn't really matter in the end.

But always, _always,_ it was there. His broken uniform and this room that was nothing but a cell (if he stayed in it at all) was all he had now and he hadn't kept any possessions from before Frieza recruited him. He had absolutely nothing of who he was before, the man who could stand up from the tyrant's brutal beatings, walk out of the dungeons after days, _weeks_ of torture and starvation, and could drag himself out of any bloody war.

And he did it all with his tail held high, even when his head wasn't. It was the closest thing to a planetary flag he had. He clung onto it as much as it clung onto him. But now, now it was gone. He had nothing of his home, and his home had nothing of him.

_All hail Vegeta, the forgotten Prince._


	9. Talkative Minds

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: Well, I'm back (been on holiday, absolutly great!) and one the first things I did was check my email... a load of messages saying this story has been favourited by alot of people (including a certain author who, in my eyes, is a bit of a celebrity when it comes to BxV fics- seriously D.A, you made my day!) and it made me happy :D thank you lots and lots!

~ sorry this is a _really _short chapter. It was going to be part of my next chapter but... I don't know I guess I just decided to seperate it.

~**R&R please x**

Her aim had been simple; return Gohan's books, chat to Chichi and return home. Perhaps to drop by the salon to cut her hair. Her smooth little bob was starting to grow out, the aqua tresses kept whipping in her eyes every few seconds. But no, her plans hadn't worked out at all. Yes, Gohan had his books, and the promise of a new tutor, but her run-in with the Royal Creep had left her broken, miserable and cold. And her chat with Chichi, as much as she planned it, almost made her feel worse.

What's more, the journey through the skies home was unbearable. The engines droned on and on, the moonlit grassy hills rolled by continuously and the utter stillness inside the cabin made her fell gut-wrenchingly lonesome.

But then again, she dreaded going home. Her father would be easily distracted by something or other and her mother would literally smother her with affection. She loved both her parents dearly, but they were either not interested or a little too interested. They could never quite get the balance right.

Bulma's face fell. She loved her parents, she really did, but at times like this, they were just not the right company. She wanted someone who would just sit there and listen to her, or rub her back when she hugged them. She wanted Yamcha back.

His face flashed through her mind. That was all it took to make her breath hitch and eyes sting, her common sense telling her that it was not safe to fly the craft like this and to land it. She watched her shaky hands guide the bulky vehicle to the ground and switch off the ignition. It took a few painstakingly slow seconds for the engines to die down, but then came the bliss or pure silence. Funny how you don't notice how noisy something it until it's gone. Bulma looked out of the wide windshield before her, regarding how the clouds were patchy today, but there was some faint little stars dotted in-between like a bed-quilt flapping in the wind.

She watched the fluffy indigo puffs trundle along for a while, wishing she could join them. Finally, and with out even thinking, she walked outside and de-capsulated the jet, hoping that a little walk might help her before going home. She spun in a complete 360, indecisive about which way to head. The woods were to the east, the fords were more south, but home was west. Giving up rationality, she decided to go where her feet took her, and strolled towards the woods.

It did mean she had enough time and peace to think things through now. About what to do. A little time to alone to organise her talkative mind. The heiress had told Chichi the truth about her life crisis- how could she hold down a vast empire that was growing day by day and be there for her friends? Both were hard to do alone, but together? From an early age, Bulma had prided herself in being bold, courageous and eager to face any battle head on (it had on several occasions kept her up at night as she swore she'd win before she'd give up) but even this seemed daunting for her.

It had started out the day the Saiyans left, but only when Chichi arrived. The brunette had waited a whole year to see her boys again, only to find them battered and bruised. It damn near broke her heart when she clung to Goku and, because of his injuries, he couldn't hold her back. Her little boy, though, was able to half hug his mother, a miracle by Chichi's standards. This bittersweet meeting touched the blue haired woman. For the first time, she could see a picture of how things were, and were not meant to be.

Bulma had known Chichi since she was a little girl, and Bulma had not been that much older herself, and she had to admit; the girl knew how to fight. She may not have battled ruthless aliens, or demented emperors, but she could still bring down a dangerous thug or two with little problem. Heck, she'd even fought Goku himself at the world tournament. But when she saw Chichi whisk into that room and sob at the sight of her family… she wasn't a fighter anymore. Somehow over the years, she had matured (despite her massive temper tantrums) and wizened up. Finally, she knew where she was meant to be and it was beside her husband and son.

Sitting in the corner, Bulma felt a pang of- something- inside her. Jealousy? Self pity? Loss? Something inside her felt an acute sense of sadness. Then it hit her; she didn't know what to do with herself. The bold woman had always lived by that motto; live everyday like it were your last. There is no yesterday, there is no tomorrow. Live for today. Looking back on it, she wondered why she ever told herself that. Here she is, almost thirty, with a dead lover, aging parents, absent friends and a mountain of work ahead of her. She hadn't thought about her future for so long that she hadn't noticed it creep up on her, sneering on her face.

A secret to anyone but her, Bulma decided that her trip to Namek would be one last hurrah! before she finally gave it all up. Pack away her globetrotting equipment, lock away the dragon radar, and pull out the executive suits. It wasn't going to be anywhere near as fun, but it was safe. And when Yamcha was safe and sound beside her, she had no intentions to lose him again. Ever.

She wondered if perhaps he would change too. Dying must have had some effect on him, but was it enough to rewrite his lifestyle? He was like a stubborn toddler sometimes and she had a brief mental image of him clinging to the doorframe begging stay just five minutes longer at his friends as his fingernails felt marks in the wood. He was hard to please at the best of times, but at the end of the day, Bulma still loved him. Jut three more months and they'd be together again, safe and sound in that special normality.

A light momentarily flashed ahead of her. Looking up, she located the cause- she'd not noticed entering the woods and getting accustomed to the darkening hour. Looking up and ahead, the canopy was clearly thinning out into what she could only imagine to be a meadow and the little gaps flashed white like fairy lights whilst the treetops swayed about under the rising moon. Narrowing her eyes, the heiress was annoyed when the silvery flashes continued. Instead, something was glistening right ahead of her. Curiosity dragged her over one small step at a time. Reaching her chest was something big and curved hidden amongst the overgrown vegetation, something silver. Her ingenious brain recognised it immediately as crafted metal and she smiled properly for the first time today (besides when she was joking about with Vegeta… but now she wasn't too sure if that had actually happened or if it was just her imagination) as she brushed away the last remaining tendrils from its secret.

Gasping, Bulma took a moment to absorb its technological beauty. "Oh… oh you sexy little thing, what are you doing here all alone?"

Ok, she may have planned on settling down and leaving the playgrounds of her past life behind her but this was simply too good to pass up.

Vegeta tended to scowl for the majority of his time, and sleep was no exception. He rarely dreamed, but over the past few years his nightmares had become more frequent…but they didn't scare him. They would make him anxious, of course, and he would wake from them with a jolt, but never had he felt utter fear from them. Vegeta never ran away from a fight, even when he was losing, and dreams were no exception. After all, they were real. Real memories clawing themselves from the depths of his numb brain, repeating the very same words he had heard many years ago. His nightmares were not nightmares; merely loops of what had made him who he was.

Then where the fuck did these new nightmares come from?

His scowl had darkened so much at one point that if anybody were thereto watch him, they might have believed that this man had the anger to fuel a war single headedly, yet bare seconds passed before his features sprung into shock, pain and utter terror. From the way his face contorted, he looked like a child with a deadly fever. Somewhere behind his bronze eyelids, Vegeta was scared.

His dark eyes snapped open as he took a deep breath. He sat up straight in his armchair even though his bed was a metre away and flopped his face into his still gloved hands. He felt slightly dizzy and he briefly wondered whether or not it was the result of the sudden return of oxygen to his brain as he felt like he'd forgotten how to breathe.

Still very shaken from his visions, his fingers very slowly creeped over his forehead and past his hairline before he pulled them away and rubbed at his fingertips. His panting, along with his strong heart, finally started to slow but his mind was whirring around as he gawked at his hand. The pristine white of his gloves dulled at the tips of his digits… they smelled salty and running them across his forehead one more time confirmed his suspicions—he'd been sweating.

Vegeta, the crazed killing machine, had woken up in a cold sweat.

Shocked beyond words, he merely shook his head as if he could shake out the entire scene. Dropping his spiked head down even further, he laced his hands behind his neck, the muscles sore from whipping awake too quickly. Never, in living memory, had his dreams painted themselves from imaginations and not a life experience- those he could handle, he'd lived through them before- but these new displays…

Sleep was quickly catching up on him again and demanded that he lay back against the cushions again. Settling against the drab armchair, he heard some small vehicle switch off outside. He may not be an expert on human behaviour, but returning when every other being on the planet was sleeping was not normal.

Then again, nothing about that crazy blue haired bitch seemed normal.

Hearing shoes sauntering up the concrete driveway, he was surprised to hear a small squeal, barely muffled by her hand in vain attempt to silence herself. Every few seconds, she released a tiny little giggle.

"This is gonna be so much fun!" Vegeta could hear her whispers of excitement snake its way through the open window in time to the curtain billowing in the winds. And only hours after he left her broken and in a state in the little shack amongst the mountains. I swear she must have something wrong with her.

He had no idea what she was so excited about, but since she was heading directly to her sleeping quarters, he resolved to find out after daybreak. In no time at all he was dead to the world and, mercifully, he hadn't one single dream for the rest of the night as his talkative mind finally began to rest.


	10. Intruder Alert

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**:Yeah, I should've just kept that last chapter as a part of this one. Would've made it longer, sorry about that. _Anyway_, thanks for the reviews guys, _**keep 'em coming**_!

~ btw, Happy **4th July** to you American readers :D maybe one day I'll visit in time to see the fireworks 3

The day was beautiful- there was not a single cloud in the bright blue sky and the sounds of children playing rung through the neighbourhood near CC. It was a day families decided to splurge themselves to a day of fun, sun and lemonade, where friends would flock together and do whatever the hell they want.

Sadly, the blue haired scientist hadn't noticed it. She hadn't noticed_ the past eight days at all._

Wiping a stray smear of grease from her cheek, Bulma stepped back and admired her work. It was truly a work of art, a hidden gem found by he luckiest of geologists and crafted from a god's teardrop. It awed her from the moment she saw it and, despite her constant fiddling with it, it never ceased to amaze her. It had taken her two days to gather anything she needed and a further six to properly work on it, but very monument was worth it. She was almost giddy with excitement.

"_And just when I thought I'd never get the chance to actually get my hands on one of these!_ Thanks Kami!" she whispered_ to the ceiling. _

A voice answered her. "Bulma! Lunch is ready is five minutes, so why don't you start cleaning up now."

"But mum! My project is almost complete-"

"I know, sweetie, but lunch won't keep you that long. I got _hotdogs_!" Bunny sung.

Bulma thought, then exhaled through her nose before smiling. "Tell dad not to use up all the ketchup again. I'll be right up."

Stripping from her navy blue overalls, Bulma was soon washed and ready to walk out of her personal labs. The electronic door slid closed behind her as she marched up the stairs towards the _'home dome' _thinking of how she'd present her prized project to her father later on. He'd be so proud of me

In fact, she was so pleased she failed to notice the black mass in the above her as she exited her lab, or hear the thump of it landing where she had stood ten seconds before as she rounded the corner of the yellow hallway. Its shadowy frame paused, waiting for any hint of her return before it lightly ran its fingers along the number pad on the control panel.

Mrs Briefs was standing at the barbeque poking the hotdogs whilst nattering on to her husband. The sizzle of the sausages intermingled with the portable stereo they brought out and Bulma swayed her hips to I'm Walking on Sunshine, singing loudly to the words she did know and mumbling quietly in incoherent sounds the words she didn't. With one hand, she held her hotdog up and blindly reached for the ketchup bottle to her left. It took a second of flapping her hand around before it touched the condiment. Her fingers landed on top of another hand that was already gripping the bottle.

"Dad, I know ketchup is your favourite sauce, but I would like some as-" Funny, she didn't remember her father's arm being green. Confused, she looked up into a smiley face. "-well…Hey stranger, long time no see!"

Te'oboe released his hold on the bottle and folded his arms across his chest. If any other of her friends did that, it was usually because they were stressed or angry or worried. When Te'oboe did it, he just looked casual. He was the most human of the aliens she'd met so far.

Side by side, they walked over to the chill box and pulled out a couple of water bottles. It was really nice to see him again since she had spent over a week cooped up inside with only herself and her recent project to keep her company. Eight days suddenly felt like a whole month. Her parents, pleased as they were to meet him more personally, talked to each other as they were left out of the conversation as the heiress and the scarred Namekien caught up.

The end of Bulma's hotdog dripped ketchup, the red sauce landing gracefully on her lime green tank. She hadn't noticed it until Te'oboe kindly pointed it out to her.

"Oh, for gods sake. Funny how I never spill anything down me unless it's something that stains. I guess that's what boobs are for- to catch crumbs." She patted her chest with a tissue but despite her will, the stain didn't budge. The red mark sat smugly just below her cleavage, taking pride of place for all to see.

"It does not matter."

"I suppose not. I can just get another one later. Speaking of which, I've not seen that little number before," she said cheerfully as she pointed to his body. He was wearing a loose white tunic with long sleeves. It was a drastic change from his usual sleeveless waistcoats that usually showed off his green chest and pink stomach. His ruffle collar, though, was still there.

"I guess I must have passed on the style-bug to you!"

The Namekien looked down at the ensemble and his face immediately fell into a look of sorrow. He gulped slightly. "Perhaps. Bulma, there is something I want you to know."

Slowly turning her head to the side to check if her parents were listening, the woman looked back to her forlorn friend, her stomach in knots. She too gulped slightly.

"What is it? Te'oboe, what's wrong?"

He looked down and saw that she cad crept her hands across the table to hold his fists. It was hard enough telling his family and friends. It was going to be even harder to explain it to a human.

"Bulma, I have-"

A loud siren was heard booming through the compound. It was different from the fire drill. It was a warning about an intruder. Faster than any of Earths Special Forces, Bulma leapt from her seat and ran inside to the nearest security panel. It was a simple break in from one door by the looks of it, the source of it was… her personal lab.

The one with her prized project in it.

"Aw, crap!" she muttered before sprinted away yet again. This time in the direction of the intrusion. The siren wailed louder and, finally, the door came into sight. It didn't appear broken, nor did the control panel next to it. Everything was perfectly intact and, if it weren't for the seventeen burley security guard holding their hand guns ahead of them just inside, she'd have wondered if there was any problem at all.

"Who are you and what are you doing in here?"

Bulma stood behind the wall of the best security guards money could buy (all of them ex military) and waited for an answer.

"Sir, I asked you a question."

Daring a peek, the heiress was stunned to see, of all people, Vegeta standing still and stiff before them in the middle of the room. The red warning light was flashing in the corner but the reflective surfaces meant the flashes swallowed them up from every angle. Only he was facing away from the armed men.

For some reason unknown to her, she pushed her way to the front of the crowd, standing right next to the head security guard. "Vegeta, what on Earth…?"

He twitched at her words, his shoulders tensing even more than they already were.

Taking a few more steps forward, Bulma stood alone in no mans land. She felt very Vulnerable in the small distance between the "army" and the ex-"soldier", it felt more like a vest expanse of extremely deep ocean. She tried again. "Vegeta, how the hell did you get in my lab?" her voice sounding a lot more confident than she really was.

All he did was slowly twist his neck as if to talk to her over his shoulder but he kept his narrowed eyes glued to the contraptions before him. At his movement, every single gun behind her clicked in preparation to fire. It sent shivers down her spine. She just knew that there was going to be bloodshed if she didn't react quickly. And it wasn't Vegeta's blood that was going to be spilled.

"Mr. Marshall," she turned to the head security guard with salt and pepper hair, "I admire your skill in reacting to this situation. You and your men truly are the most skilled around, but now this drill is over, you can all return to your posts now."

Marshall raised a heavy black eyebrow at her. "Ma'am, you gave no indications of a drill-"

"If I did then you would have been expecting it and that is no practice at all. I need to test you response time and tactics and they were superb. Thank you."

Reluctantly, the head guard agreed with her. Within seconds, Vegeta and Bulma were alone in the wailing red room. The prince wasted no time in turning on the spot to face her completely with nothing but malice in his ebony eyes and a growl radiating from deep within his chest. And there was something unholy about the red light jumping across his face like crimson lightning.

She had honestly never felt so petrified.

Te'oboe had sat at the picnic table for what seemed like hours before anybody returned, only to find it was their parents. The old man flopped back down into his forgotten sun lounger whilst his wife knelt on the soft grass to clear up the dropped dishes, pausing to fiddle in the nearby flowerbed.

Te'oboe cleared his throat. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, my boy, everything is fine. It seems that daughter of mine planned a drill to test our security system. She's resetting it and, knowing her, she'll be back to work on that new machine in no time." Dr Briefs had been wiping his forehead with a handkerchief and tucked it away as he regarded the young man. "I say, are you alright yourself? You look a bit down."

Blinking at the kind old man's words, the Namekien started to lightly rub his chest, thankfully ignored by the aging scientist. "I am fine, too. I am disappointed I could not talk to your daughter for longer. It has been over a week since I was in her pleasant company. It was nice to finally hear her voice again."

"Oh, my daughter has a voice all right. She uses it all the time, trust me."

Sparing a quick but sad smile at the Dr, Te'oboe sighed before standing up. "Please pass on a message from me. I would like to see her a soon as possible." With that, he walked away, each footfall heavier than the last.

"You bitch."

She was taken back by his words. His stillness was eerie, the deep throbbing growl was paralysing and the look in his eyes was terrifying, but those were not the words she was expecting. "I'll kill you" or "Say your prayers", or even silence, but not "You bitch".

"What?"

"You stupid, deceitful, insufferable _bitch_. Do you have any idea of what you've done?" his voice was rising in volume and only getting fiercer.

Shaking her head, the blue haired woman closed her eyes. "One moment, please." Her feet made no sound above the deafening buzzing and atrocious flashing. Flipping open a clear plastic flap to reveal a big red button. Pressing it with the flat of her palm, she was dreading turning around to face him again. When she finally did, she was relieved to find the "_fear-for-your-soul_" look in his dark eyes had gone. Sadly, the "_fear-for you-life_" look was well and truly still there.

"Well? Are you going to explain why you decided to break into my personal laboratory and accuse me of something I didn't do?"

He scoffed at her words. "Didn't do? And how do you explain these?" gloved hands indicating the devices behind him.

"What? I found them and decided to repair them. What's so bad about that?"

"_Because_," he spat out through clenched teeth, "the space pod and scouter you _so innocently_ repaired are the property of Frieza's army. You, you moron, have just reactivated their tracking devices!"


	11. Lab Talk

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: I had an odd dream last night. Dr Briefs kidnapped me and Nappa and took us to a pub. I raced Nappa down the stairs because Dr Briefs was having a heart attack and we went to get help. We found Vegeta and he lifted Dr Briefs in his arms and took him to the hospital. I was sad because Dr Briefs was dying. Nappa was sad because he didn't finish his Beer. Just thought I'd share that XD

~ I hope you enjoy this. I rewrote it about three times but in the end I just said, _what the hell_, and decided to upload it. Sorry

~**R&R please x**

The colour drained form her face. "Please- please tell me you're joking."

"Do I look like I'm fucking joking?" He had a point, Bulma half expected him to transform into the Hulk or something. He had his fists clamped to his sides and they were shaking with unreleased rage.

Bulma took deep shaky breaths as the room started spinning around her, forcing her to crouch on the floor and cover her eyes. If what Vegeta said was true, then she had more or less sealed the doom of each and every living thing on this beautiful planet. The prince's words echoed in her ears.

"Oh, gods, what have I done?"

"You've killed us all."

"I know that!" she cried, jumping up and taking a furious step towards him. "You don't think I know that?"

"Then why did you ask?" He also stepped forwards.

Another step. "It's a rhetorical question, idiot!"

Another step. "I'm the idiot? Did you not at least question the sources of these things?

Another step. "I sourced them as Saiyan, dweeb, both from when you were here the first time!"

Another step. "Saiyan? First of all, if they were originally Saiyan, then they would have to be at least twenty years old. Secondly, that," he pointed directly to the geometric symbol on the pods door, "is the Kold family crest! A Saiyan would sooner die than wear that with pride!"

Bulma and Vegeta were edging closer and close until their noses were mere inches away. Her hands were planted firmly on her narrow waist whilst his bunched into tight fists between them. She was totally oblivious to the fact that one twitch from them would pierce through her delicate frame easier than a hole puncher. Both were furious with each other to an extent where they physically couldn't speak.

But, Bulma reluctantly admitted, he had a point. She actually didn't care much on where the pod and scouter came from, just the magical mechanics inside. It a sense, it was like a Christmas or birthday present; the wrapping paper was insignificant if the gift inside was outstanding. She closed her big blue eyes and let her head flop forward as her growing aqua locks covered her face. She was trembling ever so slightly.

"I didn't meant to… I never thought-"

"You didn't think at all, woman." He crossed his arms before backing away. On one heel, he spun on the spot and started to circle the white orb in the middle of the room.

Sensing his sudden disappearance, Bulma chanced a peak. To see him wandering around on the other side of the room surprised her. In fact it surprised her that she could actually see anything: for a second there, she had expected him to kill her where she stood. She wouldn't have blamed him; for what she'd done to her home planet, she deserved it. When she saw the ball of bluish-white light in his palm, the heiress sighed quietly, what took him so long?

Only to watch him point it directly into the open door of the space pod. The ball was only getting bigger and brighter.

_Oh, shit._

_"What the hell?"_

Vegeta snapped his eyes in the direction of the blue haired bitch storming over to him. Her voice promised another round of anger. She all but threw herself in his line of fire. "Out of my way, woman, unless you want to burn alive!"

"If I'm going to die, you will too. Vegeta, we are standing in a room mad of metal walls. Behind them are thousands of electrical wires. Two feet away from you is a table covered with flammable and deadly liquids. One tiny spark from you and you blow this whole compound sky high! Think about it!"

Again, they were looking directly into each others faces, shadows casting across them from the glowing ball of electricity crackling between their bodies. Apart from the corner of his mouth twitching, he gave no indication that he had heard her. Nevertheless, he lowered his hand and the shadows across his features died down, along with hers. He huffed in her face.

"If I can't blow it up, woman, then I suggest you get your so called genius arse in gear and undo all of this damage you've caused!"

"Fine!" she started to tie up her growing aqua tresses. "But don't think I'm doing this for you. If Frieza's army does come, then I'll face no hesitation in handing over your arse to them. I'm not getting involved by 'harbouring a criminal'." Spinning away from him, Bulma stomped over to her forgotten work overalls to change into. If only she had looked back, her eyes would have found a man having an internal argument.

_She should die. Nobody in the whole universe has ever dared to speak like that to me and live._

_But you need her to deactivate the trackers. Kill her now and they'll still find you._

_Let them come!_

_Over a million soldiers surrounding the planet? And nowhere to go other than countless planets after your head? That's going to be hard to tackle, even for you._

_Fine! She lives for now. But she spoke of that pathetic army as law enforcers. Law abiding my arse! If only she knew-!_

_-She doesn't know. That's how the crazy bitch got us into this situation in the first place. And it is only her who can get us out!_

_… She lives for now…_

The blue haired scientist was rushing back and forth gathering various tools and blueprints, completely ignoring the sulky Saiyan now leaning against the workbench she had set up. In all honesty, she wasn't sure if she was purposely taking her time to find tools she didn't need to deactivate it. With her spanner grasped in her hand, she stood before it like an executioner. What she was about to do felt illegal. Vandalising this beautiful work of art felt like drawing a Hitler moustache on the baby Jesus- just wrong. Yet, here she was throwing away her hard work for over a week and one of the only three pieces of alien technology she could lay her hands on. The other, Kami's ship, perished on Namek. The other, the very first, was the green scouter on the table. She felt like crying when she realised she'd have to destroy that too.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Get on with it!"

His rough voice violently pulled her back into reality with a jump.

"Right." Bulma sighed heavily before kneeling on the floor and crawling into the pod, leaving her legs sticking out as she opened the latch underneath the seat. She faced layer upon layer of multicoloured wired and geometric shapes of metal, goading her sink her fingers into its extraterrestrial mesh. Oh, how wonderful it felt to hold something so alien, so unique…

With the glummest expression ever, she got to work.

"What the hell is taking you so long, woman?"

"I'm trying to find the damn gadget to actually turn it off! It must be buried deep inside, almost at the back. Even with tools, I'm finding it hard to reach!" she called out from within the pod. "Why don't you just make yourself useful and pass me that screwdriver up on that table?"

With a mighty crash, the tray filled with her tools slammed to the floor by her knees. "Get it yourself."

Having to sit up to reach said screwdriver, she glared at the prince. "Yeah, I should've have guessed that you were incapable of doing something so simple, like helping out!" with that she flopped backwards and disappeared again. She missed the dirty look she got back from him.

"Bloody hell, they really made it hard to get to, didn't they?"

"They do that on purpose. If they wanted to disable it, then they would have to do exactly what you are doing now. If a so-called genius like yourself can't do it, then it would have been absolutely impossible for the thick brutes that called themselves soldiers. Either that or blow it up completely and destroying their only means of transportation."

"Like you were about to do?"

"Yes."

As she was lying on her back, she had to tilt her back to reach the controls. Her hands didn't stop, but they slowed down. The tone that Vegeta just spoke in- it didn't sound like Vegeta. Sitting up again, she looked up at him leaning against her desk. From her position on the floor, he looked majestic in every sense of the word, but as he looked to the side, he looked the most humble she'd ever seen him.

"Vegeta?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, he glared back down at her. "What do you want now? You're wasting time."

"I…I…" she stammered. Bulma honestly didn't know what she wanted. The way he had agreed so readily and simply with her were odd enough, but his expression agreed with her suspicions over his tone of voice. He was simply too distracted by something else. That something else must be big.

"I just wanted a pair of pliers, that's all. Then I remembered they're right next to me- on the floor."

He simply nodded as she got back to work.

"Well, I suppose it makes sense to hide it all the way back here then. Tricky little sod, but I'll find him." By now, her tongue was sticking out the corner of her mouth.

"You did not find it when you were rebuilding the damn pod?"

"No, I didn't rebuild this part. The central controls were basically untouched. As was the door. No, it was the shell and seat I had to… wait a minute!" Yet again, she sprung forwards like a comical zombie. "How did you know I had to rebuild this thing?"

Crossing his ankles like his arms, he looked forwards. "Automatic self destruction. I realised afterwards that I had left my pod remote behind. No doubt you decided to highjack the only remaining space pod on the planet. After all, it's not like Nappa needed it anymore.

"When you summoned that pod, the system registered the lack of passenger, and without Nappa's personal PIN number, it detonated."

"Oh… then I suppose that makes sense as well. If only I knew about a PIN number, I would have gone there the pick it up myself and save all this effort." As she was talking, Bulma stood up and looked at him, flexing her ankles as he continued his explanations.

"Whether or not you collected the pod in perfect condition, you would still have activated the tracking device and you would still be doing this task at hand. Which," he added, giving up leaning against the desk, "isn't being done! Get to it now, woman."

That tone instantly made Bulma cross, but as much as she'd have loved to fight back, he was right. The clock was ticking away.

Crawling back into the pod, she decided to lay on her stomach with hopes of better access. Her knees bent, leaving her feet to hoer in the air, like a teenage girl babbling to her BFF's over the phone.

About 30 more seconds passed with no other noise than the clicks as her hands worked away searching for the hidden spy.

"Why would you not use Radditz's pod?"

Without missing a beat, her voice sounded from the pod. "The government took it away."

"This planet's political systems confiscated it? They would do good to learn some basic technology around here."

"You know, I said the same thing myself. It's just what they decided to do."

"Why the hell would they want to do such a thing?"

Bulma knew the answer, but Vegeta obviously didn't. Either that or he was playing dumb just so she'd actually answer, but she really didn't want to, knowing how the Saiyan would react.

But the silence that passed only grew heavier until she felt she had no choice. Still laying part way in the pod, Bulma put down her screwdriver.

"Err, well, I guess they thought that if they, you know, leave it laying around, then, ehem, then others would…" she gulped, "come back. And if they destroyed it then they couldn't find the earth.

Ha! Guess they were right in a sense. I wonder if they knew about the tracking devices…" She let out a shaky little laugh.

The prince hadn't moved since he voiced the question and it was obvious from her voice that she was anxious. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why, but he wasn't too keen on how her laugh was weak and pitiful when it would usually reverberate throughout his head.

"It was still activated long enough for Nappa and I to copy his coordinates."

"Yeah." The scientist picked up her tools again and continued her tinkering. "Just out of curiosity, how long do they stay activated?"

"Earth time, nine days. If it has remained unused for all of that time then it automatically switches off." Vegeta started grumbling. "That is until it is used again, then it's like the damn thing hadn't never turned off at all."

"Like a snooze button?" things became that bit more clearly now.

"Hmph. Whatever."

"Hey! It was a civil question! I just-" stopping suddenly, Bulma saw the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. "-FOUND IT!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Finally." He had waited long enough for her to undo her colossal mistake but what really pissed him off was her constant babbling. Question after question she'd ask and he was secretly embarrassed how readily he'd answered every one.

She lifted the dark green chip out of the pod first holding it high like Excalibur before lifting her own body out. The chip itself was no bigger than the average mobile phone and mere millimetres thin, but it glimmered in her grasp as the silver veins caught the light. The was a little red bulb flashing. The look of pride on her face was phenomenal.

He, of course, had to burst her bubble. "If you think that's it, you're wrong."

Her smile faltered. "What do you- hey! You pig, give that back!"

Without give her a chance to finish her sentence, the Saiyan snatched the chip from her hand. "Shut your big mouth, human. This chip has to be destroyed." With that, he pinched it, showering their feet in crunchy shreds and tiny sparks.

Bulma watched as the last remnants of the chip sank to the cold metal floor, literally feeling the tension drop with them. One down, one to go.

He must have thought the same thing as he turned his frame toward the desk he had been leaning on. A gloved hand held up the scouter before his eyebrows shot together.

"What the-? Woman, this scouter is green!"

Bulma walked up behind him wiping her delicate hands on a spare rag. "Yeah? So what?"

"Radditz's scouter was green!"

"Thank you captain obvious! Yes, it's the same one. As you said earlier, 'it's not like he needed it anymore'."

"When and where did you collect it?" his voice was getting dangerously low as he narrowed his eyes at her. She dared not lie right now.

"Well, Goku was still alive when we got there, but just barely. And Radditz was already gone. After we found out about you guys coming, I just thought it'd be a good… idea…" her voice trailed off at the frown he was giving her.

"So you took a scouter from a dead mans face?"

"Um, if you put it like that… yes."

"And that," he added, "was over a year ago?"

"Yep."

Vegeta shook his head and closed his eyes. As his dark head sank forwards, Bulma could just about hear him ordering to remove the damn chip. Luckily, she'd played around with this scouter before and, thanks to the space pod's chip, she knew exactly what she was looking for and where. It was a matter of minutes before she held up its miniature before dropping it in his palm. Both tracking devices had ceased to exist, and that was all Vegeta cared about.

"Well, looks like we managed to solve that out. Well done partner." She raised a hand as if to pat him on the back, but the ever agile Saiyan dodged out of the way in time.

"We? I think you'll find that I was the one to coordinate your actions and undo your mistake."

Bulma squared up and looked him in the eye. "Yes, but I was the one who did all the hard labour. You didn't even help when I asked for my screwdriver!"

"I told you to get it yourself!"

"If we're working on that principle then why didn't you get the chip out yourself?" she paused, more for dramatic effect than for an answer. When she got none, she flashed him a smile. "I don't mean to brag or anything, but you needed me to stop the tracking transmissions."

He scoffed at her words and turned his back on her. "I do not need anyone. And we still have one more to eradicate."

"What are you talking about?"

Although he didn't face her, he still answered her question almost immediately as he headed towards the huge metal door.

"Nappa's scouter."


	12. The Last Scouter

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: sorry for taking so long! What with holidays, doctors, uni applications and packing to move (my room is gonna look awsome :D), I haven't had much time. And my cat passed away (nearly twenty! Older than me :/)

~Here's my longest chapter so far. I didn't know where to stop :S

~**R&R please x I'm expeting them...**

As soon as Vegeta uttered those two little words, it seemed like only seconds later before she was outside and rummaging through her pockets. Pulling out a few lose capsules, she popped a blue one and threw it. The smoke had barely disappeared before the jets door was sliding open and the heiress clambered into it.

It was only a few more seconds before she leant out again, Tarzan style. "Hey, Vegeta? Do you, err, want a ride or what?"

"No." He was standing several feet away and actually quite impressed. He had never seen one of those ever-popular capsules put to use before and momentarily admired the, frankly, great piece of equipment. He just didn't want a ride with her.

"So you're okay flying there?"

"No, I planned on walking, genius."

Annoyance started to seep into her beautiful features as she huffed, "Okay! Fine, I don't care if you fly or not. Just make sure you go slow enough so that I can follow you, after all, I've never been to where we're going before. If I lose you, then I'd have to either fly around trying to find you, which will be hard enough, or go home and then you'll have to find me and we'll just be wasting time."

Reluctantly, he agreed with her. Vegeta would've been happy to leave her behind but she was right- he did need her help. Just this once, though. When the yellow streamlined jet whirred into life, he levitated high enough to clear the roofs of the compound domes and waited for her to join.

Moments later, Bulma was level with him. Nodding her head once, the man knew she was ready and sped towards the south, leaving nothing but a trail of blue in his wake and a tiny dot in the distance.

"Hmph, so much for slowing down. Alright, baby," she smirked at her steering controls, "let's see what you've got…" soon, she was also nothing of a trail in the sky as she shot off after the Saiyan in the skies.

It took Vegeta all of, say, nine seconds before he looked over his shoulder, expecting her to be along side him only to find himself alone in the air. Slamming his figurative brakes, he let out a snarl of irritation. She had asked him to fly slowly, and here he was, flying slowly. Only not slow enough.

"Damn, now what?" Should he back peddle to her or wait? Or simply go on without her. Get the damn scouter himself and bring it to her? That was his original plan. But it would've taken twice as long. Three time maybe if he couldn't find her.

Fortunately, he spied a white craft in the distance, growing by the second. With his feet dangling, Vegeta simply waited for her to catch up, leaning out of the way as said craft zoomed right past, showing no signs of stopping. Now he knew her speed, he could match this and finally get the show on the road.

He was pleasantly surprised to find their journey as slow and dreary as he had first expected it to be.

As their destination ambled into view, Bulma checked the various dials before her decent. Beneath her, the half grassy, half sandy canyons sprouted great columns of rock that made a difficult landing for her private jet. Vegeta, on the other hand was rid of his blue aura, switching it off like a light switch. In one fluent movement, he'd gone from 90mph in the air to standing tall and proud at the top one of the might columns. He watched her circle overhead like an indecisive bird.

It took a few minutes longer, but the finally woman touched ground, appearing as the engines gave their last little whirr of noise and he looked down at the unique blue hair emerging and encapsulating the craft below. Wasting no time, he casually stepped off the tower and, just before he reached the ground, he did a forward summersault and gracefully landed in front of her.

Bulma tried to hide the impressed look on her face, but plummeting over a hundred feet and landing without using any power was very impressing. Never had she ever seen her friends do that before. It took guts.

"Show-off."

"Slow-poke."

"Forgive me for wasting time with landing safely and all that." Sliding the capsule into her jeans pocket, she yelled. "Next time, I'll just steer the plane headfirst into the ground!"

"Better yet, just jump out." He smirked at her sarcasm. Agreeing with her would just infuriate her further.

He was right. Her face flushed red with irritation before suddenly settling into a brilliant smile. "Why, were you going to catch me, tough guy?"

That wiped the smirk off his face. "Shut up, we're just wasting time now."

He stalked right past her without a second glance and continued for a few moments with Bulma falling into step besides him. Sneaking a peek at him every other minute, her mind kept drifting to the idea that this just might be a trap. Here she was, willingly following the man who was universally feared because of his bloodlust and, with Goku gone, Vegeta was now the most powerful being out there. And they were heading to a place were she had never been before. Alone with a murderer.

She should really be terrified, but no matter how hard she tried, Bulma just couldn't picture it. The way he moved now was fierce and strong, but not all that deadly. He just looked like the average Joe with some errands. That very comparison outweighed here nervousness around him. For now.

When his steps slowed down, Bulma's did too. His sharp eyes wandered towards his left, causing his tall flame-styled hair to move as one solid mass as he turned his head. Bulma was just about to ask what was up when he turned his back on her and marched in that direction, with her jogging behind him. That is until the rounded another column (one that looked identical to the others in her eyes) and entered a clearing. Here the clearing was bigger, dustier and littered with rubble, the occasional scorch mark here and there. It was as her eyes fell drank up her surroundings, she collided face first into his tense back.

"Woah, watch where you're going, Vegeta!"

The Saiyan couldn't hear her calls. His eyes, too, drank up their surroundings but unlike her, he'd seen it all before. In the corner of his eye, Ki blasts were still flashing and Nappa's roars of laughter and fury still boomed through the canyons. His fingers started to twitch, begging to be curled into fists just like they do before any battle-

"Helloooo? Earth to Vegeta?" literally.

"What" he had been so lost in thought that her waving her hand in his face made him jump. "What the hell do you want, woman?"

"I said 'where to now?'"

With his thoughts now firmly pulled back into reality, Vegeta stormed to the far end of the vast clearing and eventually she followed after him. As he reached a certain spot, he spun round, stopping her in her tracks.

It was like Déjà vu to the duo.

Vegeta now stood in the exact same spot as he had in Baba's crystal ball all those months ago. His arms were planted firmly across his chest with his feet spaced apart, the idol of superiority himself. Besides his clothes and his eyes closed tight, he was identical.

That uneasy feeling Bulma felt earlier started to worm its way back. She was momentarily grateful her jet was in her pocket, rather than leaving it behind. Standing in the middle of nowhere, she felt vulnerable, as she had done on Namek, a completely alien world, again face to face with a madman.

As she took a step back, tempted to leg it, his eyes snapped open, demanding her not to move. Or warning her against escaping, one or the other. After a nerve-racking five seconds, he shifted his gaze to his right, looking up at an imaginary tall, bald-headed warrior.

Nappa.

He then stood in Nappa's place and raised his left arm to his face and grabbed a chank of air.

A scouter.

He swung his arm slightly and said imaginary scouter was tossed over his shoulder. Finally, he turned around so that he faced away from her and towards a pile of rubble.

"It must be under there somewhere."

It took awhile, but her shaky legs finally managed to work themselves to his side, watching his toss aside rock after rock (and some of them were really big rocks!). After watching his display, Bulma felt those feelings of dread in her stomach dwindle away. Whenever she had lost something, she found herself going through her entire day all over again just to find it. Him re-enacting his moves was nothing new to her. He worked much like she did, focused and non-stop if the goal was close, so close. It dawned on her that he was the only other person beside herself who could actually be called intelligent. Bulma didn't have to dumb down her sentences around him like she felt she had to with everybody else. Her father, maybe, but he just didn't have the same spark since he had gotten older. If something weren't finished, he'd admit and prepare his nightly cup of cocoa; she on the other hand would stay up all night if she had to. But Bulma recognised intelligent when she rarely saw it, and drive when it so easily reflected her own.

Finally they had one thing in common and that made him a bit more human. Enough to drop to her knees and patiently wait for him to find the hidden device.

It sparkled like a gem as he finally held it up. It was a bit scuffed and part of the screen had fractured, but its hiding place served to keep it dry and clean, surprising since it had been around half a year ago.

"That's in remarkably good condition!"

Vegeta looked sideways at her resting on her knees like him. Her blue eyes were focused entirely on the scouter like it was some kind of delicious snack, the same way she had gazed upon the space pods, or the other scouter. Vegeta was taken aback by that look- he'd seen the way she mourned over the tampering of the pod in the lab but that was different; then she had stuff taken away. Now Bulma was looking at something else entirely new and, despite it's condition, still needed a bit of touching up, something the natural genius was dying to do.

"Finish this."

"Pardon?"

Vegeta roughly shoved the thing into her hands. "Remove the tracking device. That's what we came here to do, not ogle over it."

"I do not 'ogle'! That makes me sound like some obsessed teenager!" her shoulders squared up and, when the prince slouched, she was taller than him.

He stopped slouching, eye level with each other but grinning all the time. "Please! You were practically drooling!"

"Can we just get on with it?" she snapped, changing the subject. She was embarrassed enough that she had regularly caught her self-dribbling over a particularly tasty piece of equipment before but she'd never admit that to him in a hundred years.

His face dropped into a serious expression as she walked over to a small boulder near by. When she sat next to it, it became a good improvised table to work on. She had already opened a capsule containing her tools and the green scouter as he sat across from her with his back to the clearing.

Again, they sat in silence as the popped open the scouter and rummaged round inside. Only now things were difficult. "Ah."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "'Ah', what?"

"Ah, I think this is gonna take just a little longer that we thought… You see this dent here?" she pointed at the back of the earpiece. "It's the power source-"

"Yes, I know that-"

"-which appears to be broken."

He stared at the pathetic device, dented by a stupid rock, before shrugging.

"Does the tracker still work even if the scouter doesn't?"

"Yes."

Bulma bit her lip. "I can't find the device without activating the scouter, Vegeta. I need it to work properly in order to open up. I don't know how to fix this sort of battery, let alone charge it!"

Without warning he leant forward and snatched it from her hands. He didn't bother to explain what he was doing as he reached ender the main battery system and pulled out a small black wire. At the end was a small black square that looked like it was made of plastic that he unfolded and placed on the 'table' between them, still attached to the scouter.

"Emergency charger, relies on-"

"Solar power!"

"Indeed." There was that look again in her eyes again, hunger, fascination. This time, though, he was caught off guard by how sparkly it made her eyes look. The shine in somebody's eyes meant either two things for him- either he just gave a beating, or he was beaten himself. The way Frieza's face would remain blank but his eyes- his eyes would twinkle like broken glass at Vegeta as he lay on the floor in agony. His eyes were that of a psycho.

But her eyes twinkled with something more. No, something else entirely. It completely floored him. It scared him.

"-Just look at these etchings on this- this material! I mean, I know solar power works, we've had it on Earth for several years, but the battery symbol on the screen already works and saying it's half charged and it's only been two minutes! Kami, if only I can replicate this soar panel then just imagine all of the clean reliable energy CC could produce… Hey, Vegeta, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He squeezed his arms tighter across his chest.

"Then why are your eyes shut?" she giggle quietly. "You're not nodding off on me, are you?"

"I might do I you continue to babble on like this!"

"Hmph. Sorry, I tend to babble."

It took a moment before she spoke again. "By the way… you never did tell me how you broke into my lab."

"I didn't. I hacked in." he chuckled darkly. "You should pay attention when you type in your pass code. From above I had the opportune view to see what numbers you used in what order."

She gasped slightly. "You spied on my labs control panel?"

"Only once."

"I can't believe you!" Bulma ran an angry hand through her hair.

He opened his eyes at her miffed tone. "And by the way, you never told me how you reassembled the Space pod. It exploded, did it not?"

"Well," she answered, pulled back from her frustrations. "I had to find it all first. It took two days but I gathered most of it but it still wasn't enough. So I melted it down, merged it with titanium and hey presto, a new shell. As I said earlier, the main controls, the engine and the door were barely damaged at all."

He nodded, surprised by her improvising in reconstructing a brand new pod. By the sound of it, it was stronger.

"I did the exact same thing with the Green scouter after it blew up, right on my face. Damn near took my eye out-!" her sentence was cut of with his short bark of laughter. If she hadn't have been looking at him she'd have wondered if it was really him at all; she hadn't him laugh out loud like that since Baba's crystal ball. Without the bloodthirsty lunacy mingling with his chortles, it was the second time ever she'd have called him civil.

That doesn't mean she was laughing along with him.

"-and I added a new seat; white leather to match the interior. Not too bad if you ask me, the old brown looked disgusting. And uncomfortable"

Vegeta just nodded again. Yes, it was uncomfortable. The cushioning was biscuit thin, lumpy and rough, and waking up from months of travelling in it really bugged him; Nappa had repeatedly visited the medical bay from a strained neck.

"Why bother? I'm not planning on using those pieces of crap again. Next time, I'm getting a real ship, one with training chambers and a professional control panel." And a comfortable bed.

"Oh come on! You're not the slightest bit interested in my improvements?"

"No."

Bulma almost growled. "So all my hard work for nothing?"

"I never said that, you daft human." He had to crack a smirk at her attitude. "At no point did I tell you that your so-called improvements were in vain. Just that I won't be wasting my time as your guinea pig."

"Aw man! But out of anybody on this planet, you know the most about these sort of things!"

"Too bad for you, then." With that, he closed his eyes yet again, this time to close the subject. At that precise moment, the solar panel of the scouter went ping! So Bulma decided to just get on with it.

She worked in silence, and he sat in silence, until the little hatch clicked shut. He opened one eye to see the small green chip just inches in front of him.

He stood up (without uncrossing his arms- he just sort of sprung up like the sun) as she scrambled to her feet, dropping the tiny chip into his palm before dusting off her behind. It only took a second for the last of Frieza's tracking devices on Earth to be eradicated.

Bulma didn't celebrate just yet. "Is that it?"

"Yes." he nodded, face blank.

"There's no more out there to disable?"

"No-"

"Are you sure?"

His patience was starting to run a bit thin now. "I just said so, didn't I? Damn woman..."

Finally, she breathed a sigh of relief with her short blue bangs falling around her face. "Thank the gods!"

Vegeta grunted in agreement before turning around and march back the way they came. Until her voice caused him to come to a complete standstill.

"Vegeta, wait? I think these still work, don't they?"

He turned around to see that she hadn't moved. In one hand she held the lef green scouter, the other held the ice blue.

Raising a think eyebrow, he responded, "Is that not what you wanted?"

"Um, yeah. But I didn't think… never mind." She shrugged and looked away. The she snapped her eyes back at him, an idea formulating in their blue depths. "Should we try them out?"

"I told you, I am not a guinea pig!"

Her pinks lips pouted at his harsh words. "Come on! Just this once? I want to see if they work and if they do, how far the range is?"

"Do it yourself!"

"I'm used to a little DIY, but when it comes to great distances being covered in a short amount of time," here she winked at him, "you're the best possible choice."

She wasn't just saying that to get him to come around, it was the honest truth. She could easily DIY it using her father and her fastest jet, but it would still take too long. She was sure one of the Nameks would be fast enough, but they wouldn't agree. And knowing poor Gohan he'd be bogged down in books all day.

"Yep, the best. Just do this and I'll shut up about it."

Vegeta thought. And thought some more. He was the fasted on the planet now, which was defiantly true; years and years of training and experience had shaped his body to excel in every field. And he was quite partial to the idea of testing out the updated scouter; just because he didn't need one anymore doesn't mean he wasn't prepared to use it…

I'll just shut up…

"Give the damn blue one…"

Five minutes later, an electric blue line was zooming across the sky like a shooting star. At the source came a crackle of static.

"- can't read anything! Vegeta, why did you take off before setting the damn thing to English!"

"You told me that you had changed the language shortly after you got your grubby little hands on it the first time!"

"I did!"

"… must have reset itself from restarting after the tracking device was removed."

"Great, I'll have to pop it open again and figure it out. I'll have to turn it off so give me two min-"

"Triple press the red button on the side, idiot. State your preferred language and it'll find it for you."

He heard a few beeps, and then her voice came back. "Wow! You actually have English on here, I don't have open it and do it manually! Thanks!"

He rolled his eyes before remembering that she couldn't see. "Yes, of course it does, the scouter and the pod automatically downloads each language from a planets satellite. Earth's satellite system contained every word of the main Earthling languages. Makes our jobs one hell of a lot easier."

Behind the blue glass, her blue eyes blinked once, twice, three times. Suddenly, in his left ear, he heard her boisterous laughter lasting for several long moments. "Great Kami, are you telling me that you have several whole languages in your head because you simply drove by a lump of space drifting metal?"

"What of it?"

"And they go straight into your brain via this thing?" he could hear a clicking noise. Probably her tapping the scouter over her face. "There must be thousands of languages swimming around in the memory chip."

Not having anything to say to that, Vegeta remained silent as he continued flying through the air, hoping that she would finally get the hint. He was wrong.

"Hey, Vegeta?"

"What now, woman?" he growled.

"Thanks."

That caused one eyebrow to spring up. " What the hell for?"

"I don't know," she sighed, "for letting me keep the pod and scouters, and testing them out. You could've easily destroyed them all, instead you're agreeing with me incorporating these ideas with my own."

She heard nothing as she nervously ran her toes through the dust at her feet. It seemed like hours before he replied. "They won't be missed. Now we've destroyed the tracking chips, it will appear on their computer systems that they've been destroyed. And I don't want them anyway… especially that green one…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" without his face to look at, Bulma was focused at a column in the far side of the canyon they she was in. "Vegeta, tell me what is wrong with my scouter!"

"You plucked it off a dead mans face, remember?" his lips thinned into a hard line. "There is a belief among Frieza's men; a 'Dead man's scouter' is a scouter taken directly from a the face of a corpse, bringing bad luck with it-"

He heard a rustle and crash at the other end. It was Bulma swatting it off her face like an irksome fly. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" she yelled at the thing at her feet.

He voice yelled back, his voice loud enough for her to hear without wearing it. "Too late by then, wasn't it woman? Fuck! You're making my ear bleed!"

"Aw, poor Veggie gets a bleeding ear. Who care is I die?" she mumbled sarcastically.

He growled, "Just shut it woman!" he waited to hear her reply but when none came, he ventured his theory. "Nothing has happened to you thus far-"

Actually, thinking about it, she had been having a pretty shit year. "Err-"

"-Quiet, woman! Anyway, I think you've just been tampering with that device too much for it to be recognised as the same scouter. If you would even call it that now."

His theory, though far fetched, washed over her and soothed her worries.

"Okay, I believe you. But why don't you want to wear it?"

"Name me one reason why I would?"

She tried but quickly gave it. It was obvious from the very start that you couldn't force Vegeta to do something he didn't want to. He was a person of strong will, just like her.

"I didn't think so. How much farther do I have to go before you finally realise this transmitter is galactic?"

"How could I forget? I called home from Namek using a phone based on this thing. And I don't know where the hell you were at the time, but you could hear the whole talk Piccolo gave about the Dragonballs!" Tired of standing in one spot for ages, Bulma began to wander around in small circles, as if she were on the phone to her parents or a friend. "I know the range is impressive, Vegeta, but after the whole tampering with both scouters, I wanted to see if they've been affected in anyway."

As she ambled around in circles, something small and black flapped in the corner of her eye. Cocking her head to the side, she concluded that it didn't look like an animal, or anything else natural for that matter, and before she knew it, she was walking over to investigate, still online to 'guinea pig'.

"In that case, I'll just keeping flying until I can't hear your whiney voice anymore!"

Vegeta could hear her chuckle on the other end. "Ass."

He smirked. "Moron."

"Idiot."

"Bitch."

"Saiyan."

"Human." He waited a long time for her retort but for a few moments all he heard was silence. "Woman? Can you hear me? I can't be out of range already!" And just when he was starting to enjoy himself, too. "Woman! Answer me n-!"

Flinching violently, he was cut off by her ear splitting screams of fear.


	13. Distress Signals

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: sooooo, long time, no read as they say. I don't want to make excuse _But_ I'm still packing for my new house, I've just spent a week at a transition at my hope to be university and I'm busy preparing by 18th, which is this Friday *:D woooooop ! So I made this chapter longer for you. Sorry I've not posted for a while.

Bulma just kept screaming. It seemed like forever before she paused long enough to breath in, a small squeaky noise that sounded even louder over the scouter, before releasing another round of shrieks.

On the other end of the scouter, Vegeta held the thing at a distance one eye squeezed shut as his ear rang. He could still hear her even with the scouter at arms length. He couldn't quite get over the suddenness of it all. One minute, they were talking (more precisely, insulting each other), the next she sounded like she was being disembowelled. Eventually, he brought the scouter towards him, twisting it so that the earpiece was facing the other way whilst the microphone end pointed directly at his thin lips.

"What the Hell, woman!"

No answer.

"I demand you to tell me this instant! Bah…" At this point he'd given up waiting for a reply, choosing instead to find out for himself. He set off back the way he came double speed but it still took a couple of minutes to return.

Like had had done when they first arrived there, Vegeta plopped down gracefully on a tower of rock and dropped down into a crouch, hopeful to find some monster to fight at long last. It had been over a month now since his last major battle (despite his major display of strength and power, he was trying to forget) and he was almost desperate to feel the thrill of combat.

What he saw instead was Bulma lying in a fetus position on the ground, curled up like an injured animal. Two onyx eyes watched her from above, noting the heavy rise and fall of her chest and the way she was shuddering from head to toe. Her whimpers of despair were constant, reaching his ears despite the distance.

During their little 'conversation', her blue eyes had scanned lazily around the canyon, conveniently settling on a small and pitch-black floppy… thing waving to her from a small but spiky desert bush. As ever her curiosity got the better of her. Still online to her new 'guinea pig', Bulma half walked, half ran towards the offensive little black thing, cursing him every other second with a cocky smile on her face.

It was cloth; that much was obvious. Giving it a tiny tug, the piece of material was free. Her hands flapped it until it's formed its shape. A hat, or a beret. It was very small, like it was made to fit a child. She shook her head, imagining what the little boy or girl would have reacted to losing their favourite hat. Or most hated, for that matter.

Replying to yet another one of his taunts she finally noticed the small round bobble on top, like a cherry on a cake. The smile on her face faltered as recognition hit her hard; she'd see this hat before. It can't be the same one, she thought. It- it couldn't be…

As she spoke her last insult to the prince, she looked up. There was another column of rock right next to her, with a different clearing just beyond that. It was just begging her to find it.

With the hat still firm in her grasp, Bulma walked into the clearing. The moment she did though, her foot caught under something and she tumbled face first into the dry earth, tasting sand on her tongue. From the scouter, she could hear Vegeta waiting for some sort of response from her, if she could still hear him. Her first instinct, of course, was to answer that, yes she could still hear him, and that and that it was impossible to not to when he was practically yelling directly into her left ear. Bulma was about to do so as she was pulling herself onto her hands and knees, tired of always landing on the ground, when her leg resisted.

Thinking that her boots was trapped beneath a rock or something, she swung her eyes and hand to unhook her.

She stilled her hands just in time.

She was face to face with a skeleton. With a hand shaking inches above its pristine white bones, she looked on with horror at the skull with not two but three eyeholes staring right back at her, its slack jaw smiling with welcome.

It was then that she started screaming. Big, solid screams, building from her very core and bursting through her mouth, as uncontrollable and painful as vomit. Her blue eyes were straining with effort to look away but it was impossible. Bulma tried her hardest to scoot away from it but looked down with horror to see that its dirty, billowy green trousers had latched onto a buckle on her boot. When she tried to escape from the skeleton, it would just drag along side her with it's mouth still drooping open.

Acting on instinct, Bulma place her other foot on the heel of the trapped boot and shoved it off (using a lot of strength considering there were buckles on it) before scrambling away. Now she finally had the strength to avert her eyes as her great cries of fear turned into loud moans of anguish. Looking down into her hands, still clenching onto that black hat, she realised where she had seen it before.

It was Chioutzu's hat. He never went anywhere without it.

Bulma had seen his hat drift to the ground just seconds after he latched onto that big bald Saiyan and-

"Oh, gods… Ohh Gods, no…" she whispered before throwing it right back at the skeleton in front of her. Luckily for her it landed right on it's face and covering up its blank stares from three eyeholes.

Tien. He and Chioutzu were inseparable.

Tien and Chioutzu were dead, and they were right here. She had held the little emperor's soft hat in her hands just seconds ago, right after she shook off the dragging corpse. She gagged at the thought, for a split second thinking his bones were moving by themselves to follow her before she looked down at her boot. Even through thick CC boots, socks and the hem of he jeans, it felt as though its touch burned through to her skin. She could help but feel it still clinging onto her ankle.

As well as fear, disgust swallowed her too. Jumping to her feet, she shuddered violently as her hands worked to swipe away any bones, any insects that might have gripped onto her body. Her whole skin was crawling. She paid particular attention to her face, neck and hair, often slapping and scratching her skin until it turned pinky-red.

Her breathing was ragged so she couldn't speak. She wouldn't know what to say anyway, her mind was blank; a pure, brilliant white filled her mind as panic took over.

With one last grunt, she swung her body away from Tien's and staggered a few feet. As he disappeared from sight, she started to feel like she could breath again for the first time in hours. He frantic hands had stopped striking her body and now flew to her eyes as scared tears dripped down her white cheeks.

Still staggering away, her eyes finally looked up as she tried her hardest to regulate her breathing. "Oh my… I…"

_This cannot be happening!_

And then, to the far side of the clearing, she saw Yamcha.

Vegeta arrived just in time to watch Bulma's knees give way slam to the ground before curling into a ball on the ground, shuddering and whimpering. It took him quite a while to float down form that rock though; he was certain that some enemy would reveal itself and attack him whilst his back was turned and, despite his desire for combat, he was playing it safe.

It still dumbfounded him as to why the woman was acting as though she were a dying animal. With trembling arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his eyes searched for a wound. As far as the soldier could tell, she was unharmed. He stood over her, cocking an eyebrow in confusion. It all felt a little anticlimactic and he seriously thought of just leaving her there, shivering like the coward she was, when he heard her try to talk in incoherent mumblings.

"What was that?"

"There… he's right there…"

Vegeta's shoulders tensed. So there is someone here, he thought. "Where is he, woman? Tell me now!"

"… Right there…" a trembling finger vaguely pointed to the far wall of rock.

With a growl, Vegeta followed her line of sight and poised in a fighting stance in that direction. It took him a while to find anybody though; he was looking at eye height and not at the ground.

Then he finally saw it. A bunch of bones in a ridiculous orange garment and topped off with a long black wig, its shape barely passing human.

Of course, the only opponent around had already fallen in battle. Months ago by the looks of it.

In the open air and under the power of the elements, the fallen were little more than skeletons, their rotten flesh would have entirely disappeared weeks ago, save from hair and clothes, both were thinning out and faded. This particular body had very long hair that covered it's face entirely. The makeshift veil looked brittle, as if it could turn to dust from the slightest breeze. Vegeta quickly calculated in his smart brain how long the man had been left here: months. Six months, most likely. Around the same he first landed on this mud ball of a planet. Wasn't there one fighter in orange there who barely fought at all? Some weakling who got too close to a Saibaman?

So that's where he recognised the heap of bones.

His pristine white boots were standing before it now as Vegeta looked down his nose at the carcass with an odd feeling. He saw more dead bodies than he could count, countless lives taken by his hands but at least they were fresh or burnt. He hardly ever returned to the scene afterwards. Mainly because, nine times out of ten, the planet wouldn't exist anymore. Nor would the bodies for that matter.

It the handful of times that he had, indeed, seen a corpse left long enough to break down on its own, it was always at that stage where it stank. Wave upon wave of nauseous aroma made him gag whist his eyes tried their hardest to look away from the gaping holes of blackening flesh hanging from yellow bones.

And maggots. Bloody hundreds of them dancing in its mouth, its chest, its eyes and Vegeta's memory.

Which is why he felt a little relief to find nothing but clean bones like dried wood in a desert. It was doing fine here before he arrived, it will do fine after he leaves. Let it be.

With a faint grunt, he turned and walked back towards Bulma who was still lying almost comatose on the earth, big watery eyes unmoving from her discarded lover. As he walked past her, the tip of his boot tapped the base of her remaining boot with a quiet tap. "You. Get up now or I'm leaving without you. My business here is done."

When she failed to acknowledge him, Vegeta growled and brought his foot down to rest on her hip, Warrior- style. "Did you not hear me? Woman, I demand you to get up this instant!" He shoved his foot against her a couple of times, rocking her, until he shoved her enough to scoot her entire body forward as he brought his foot away from her.

"Fine! Have it your way!" With that, he powered up, ready to fly away and leave her to feel sorry for herself-

-Then face the music when he returned to CC. With her mysterious disappearance only hours after heading to some barren desert with a intergalactic murder machine, it's only a matter of time before everybody came running to him. It may not have been his fault that she was weak enough to fall at the sight of something, something that was completely harmless to her, but no doubt they would blame him.

Vegeta always got the blame for everything.

Cursing under his breath, he realised he had to abandon the common plan of just leaving. One way or another, he was going to have to remove her from this situation to have any hope of being left alone.

Vegeta channelled the blue energy he was building up to fly with into his hands, holding a shimmering ball of light that he aimed for the body. Time to be rid of it, once and for all.

"If you don't get up after this, I'll make you move myself!" he yelled over the hum of power outlining his face.

Suddenly, Bulma sprung up like she'd been electrocuted. "_What the hell are you doing?_"

"I'm going to blast that thing, what's it look like? Speeding up the cycle this thing is already going through."

"Oh no you don't!"

With a massive bout of life, Bulma jumped to her feet and jumped on his raised arm. The hem of her t-shirt scorched slightly as she almost touched the sphere of power in his palm but she didn't noticed. She all but attacked the Saiyan, if not with her pathetically weak body, then her massively strong lungs.

"Do. Not. Touch. Yamcha!" she punctuated her words with her fists pounding against his chest. "Are you listening? Stay away from him!"

"Get the fuck off me, human!"

"No!"

"I swear, if you don't-!"

"NO!"

"That's it!" Vegeta had had enough. He was not going to put up with this anymore. Still with Bulma's arms holding him in a chokehold, he leapt from the ground and soared through the air with his electric blue aura crackling around the both of them. His hair didn't budge- it was always swept high in that crazy gravity and wind defiant mane- but hers sprung to life and coiled in the air like Medusa's, the ends whipping with electricity.

If Vegeta thought he'd heard her screaming before, they were nothing compared to the squeals right by his ear at that very moment.

Stopping mid air, the Saiyan cupped his poor ear with a mighty curse that billowed through the mountains. He hadn't realised that, when he slammed the brakes from a hundred mph to nothing in seconds, Bulma had lost her grip around his neck. Her feet continued upwards and suddenly she felt a moment of dizzy weightlessness surround her before gravity decided to drag her back down. She only just managed to wrap her hands around one of his ankles just in time; otherwise she'd have continued down to join Yamcha's side.

Her 'safety net' looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. Gods, she will just not go down without a fight! Well, not the right type of fight, anyway. For a weak human, she could hold her own weight well (it's not like he was going to hold her, was it?) and her reflexes weren't bad if she could grasp his leg like that during a decent. Even during her moments of self-pity and hysterics, she saved her own life.

What baffled him now though were the tears she was shedding. _Why? Is she not alive? What is her problem?_ "Quiet!" he started to swing his leg back and forth, only to find her wails increasing in volume and pitch. "I said, Quiet! Urgh!"

Shaking his head, he didn't speak as he descended back to where she originally lay. He feet touched ground first but gave no support as her knees dropped down immediately, followed by her hands. Once he was free, he adjusted his boot; it had started slipping when he was swinging her back and forth.

On the ground, Bulma could hardly hold her self up as she caught her breath. "I… I think I left my stomach up there somewhere…" she looked like she was about to laugh when she felt her insides churn and she puked onto the sands.

All Vegeta kept thinking about was how simple and normal his day had started out. Damn it all.

After wiping her mouth, Bulma then wiped away the tears from her blue eyes. Exhaustion kicked in, whether it was from the trauma or adrenaline, she couldn't tell. She turned and crawled towards the pile of bones that was once her boyfriend. It was a futile attempt though as pristine white boot blocked her path.

"Just get out of my way." When the pestering feet refused to budge she felt her arms slowly giving way as sleep overtook her but not before she mumbled out, "Ass."

Vegeta watched as the woman slumped her head on her outstretched arm and her qua hair covered her features. For a few seconds, he took in all that had happened. He had woken up determined to find out what she was hiding in her labs- had it only been that morning? It felt like days ago- and had achieved only to be faced with a possible threat from Frieza's army. They had to disable device after device and still had to search for the final one- and now this.

For the past two decades, he had been planning how to celebrate his long awaited release from the Tyrant- and having both a snivelling weak human woman and her vomit lay at his feet was not part of it.

Nothing went according plan when it came to him.

Cursing his bad luck, Vegeta shook his head and pinched the bridge his nose with one hand as the other rested on his hip. The pose was that of an exasperated father who was getting close to the end of his tether. He honestly felt that way too. The Prince was at a loss about what to do and minutes ticked by slowly as the cogs spun around in his mind.

He couldn't just leave her here. That much was obvious.

He wasn't going to carry her home. She stunk of sweat and puke. Besides, he wasn't going to risk any more bitching from her if it was possible.

She could make her own way back. She made it all the way here by herself- but then again, the soldier knew better than having someone, whoever they were, pilot a ship in a state of shock was an act of suicide. Besides, she would have to wake up first.

Vegeta groaned. He had no idea how long she would be out and his patience was running thin as it was. His scowl deepened as he came to a conclusion- he really didn't have a choice other than carrying her back to the massive dome she lived in. Walking around to her side, he lowered to the ground and glared at her. Damn this insufferable wrench. To say the Saiyan was appalled by the very idea of 'rescuing this damsel in distress' was putting it lightly.

As his gloved hands rolled her body so she lay on her back, Vegeta felt something small but hard in her pocket. Pulling it out, he remembered her slipping her capsulated jet into her jeans just moments after her landing. A new plan of action came to life, one that much better than his previous one.

_Damn, those capsule things were genius_.

Standing up, he turned the palm-sized pod around in his hand but found no instructions. Remembering how she seemed to open it earlier, his thumb pressed over the silver button at the top- click! - and throw it a fair distance way- boom! – a smallish jet appeared on the desert like magic.

Marvelling at how pathetically easy it was, he picked up the floppy woman by the back of her shirt and carried her onboard the plane like a piece of hand luggage. Once inside, Vegeta merely dumper her unceremoniously into a large cream leather seat. It was massive enough so that Bulma slumped sideways and rested her head onto a soft armrest. At last, she looked more like she was actually sleeping instead of comatose.

With part one of his plan completed, he moved onto phase two. Walking down the short isle of comfy seats, his dark eyes scanned the control panel in front for a while. Being in an army had taught him that a ship, no matter its technology or origin, was a ship. They always shared some similarities, followed the same basic blueprint- steering, propelling systems, fuel- and nine times out of ten some sort of transmitter should the craft be stranded or damaged beyond use.

As Vegeta's sharp eyes searched for any communications device, he couldn't help but admire the engineering of the jet. Purging was his profession and he had become somewhat of a Jack-of-all-trades, in space terms. He knew basics about construction and mechanics at least. It was more than some of the dumb brutes he grew up with. With every planet conquered, Frieza would integrate the best of its technology, crops, gems and everything worth keeping with his own. The Planet of _Lemgurl_ by far had the best laser guns. Most of the guns the soldiers carried followed their blueprints. The Planet of _Làtepen_ produced the best metal sheets, perfect for space roaming vessels. Frieza best ships were a bastardised version of theirs. And of course, _Vegetasei_ had superb armour- of course the tyrant snatched it with his scaly little hands.

Vegeta took his time to admire this craft. It was strange to see something that held no taint from his former overlord, to see something in its original form the way it was meant to be. On a rock that held no particularly precious stones, fuels, warriors, whores or anything, he managed to find something somewhat valuable.

Plus, Frieza would kill to use the capsule technology- to keep something massive into something minuscule. It was soothing unheard of throughout the whole galaxy- Vegeta had heard of countless scientists dreaming it up but never achieving it. It was as likely as time travel. Yet, this young race had accomplished it, using as a part of their day-to-day lives. The irony was not lost on him.

As he traced his fingertips along the rows of buttons and switched, he accidentally touched a small screen in the middle and it quickly came to life. He heard an electronic woman's voice chime "_Welcome Bulma_". The screen glowed with patience for his next move as he read, "_State your command_".

_Voice controlled, I see? Easier than I thought_. Looking forward with a demanding air, he looked like a true captain as he rung out, "Send out a distress signal to base."

He waited impatiently for some response but when none came, he started to wonder if it was responded only to her voice. It would make a lot of sense. In which case, he was stuck here. Perfect.

Thankfully, a pleasant little chime was heard. "_Distress signal and coordination sent to: Capsule Corporation- living quarters. Recipient is on their way_."

At last, things were finally working out the way he wanted them to.

Seeing no reason to stay now, he turned his back on the control panel and walked straight past the slumbering woman. In the short time he had faced away from her, she had unconsciously pulled her legs up and curled into a lose ball again. She looked very comfortable. Not that he cared enough to look in her direction on the way out.

Somehow, the computer must have sensed his departure as he opens the jet door. From behind, the cool robotic voice pleasantly spoke._ "Have a nice day_._"_

**A/N**_: _lol :D Làtepen= late pen and late posting this chapter; sorry. Lemgurl = my intitials and 'girl'. I love sneeking little made up words like that XD pat'derra was one too!


	14. Explanations

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: Soooo. Been a while but oh well. But here's a very long chapter and my first attempt at writing a fighting scene! Gah :S In other news, I'm off to Uni this week, so my stories? Gonna be hard to write. But I WILL try my hardest to keep them updated/new, I swear x

~**R&R please x**

The first thing Bulma could feel was something cold and wet sticking to her forehead. She tried to move her arms to lift it off when the freezing liquid dripped down her face where it followed the curve of her jaw line and neck. It sent a faint shiver down her spine. In sheer determination to move the icy lump from her brow, she lolled her head to the side and back in a vain attempt to shake it off. It only left her with a pounding headache. Suddenly the cold thing wasn't so bad.

None too gently, her pillow back to move before breaking out in peals of joy. "Oh my, she's waking up! Sweetie? Can you hear me?"

"Yes, can you hear us, daughter?"

Groaning not just because of her headache, Bulma eventually opened her blue eye. Above her, silhouetted with her blurry vision, were her parents. As her vision fully returned and her eyes darted around her, she saw that she was now in the comfort of her own room, the windows now a deep orange from the setting sun. But was she not just in the desert? She was, and it was daytime. And her mother and father most defiantly weren't there, she was with-

"Vegeta!" Flinging herself forward, all she accomplished was another round of dizziness. He mother pressed gently on the cold compress on her daughters head whilst pushing her back down on the bed.

"He's not here, Bulma."

"Where is he? Seriously I don't remember a thing!"

"We don't know sweetheart."

Dr Briefs made his way to the window, pulling back the blind just enough to watch the world go by. "According to those Piccolo and Te'oboe chaps, he just decided to leave." He gave a small shrug. "I'll admit, from what little I saw of the boy, I'm rather surprised it took him so long. He didn't appear to be very happy here."

_He's not happy full stop_, Bulma internally rolled her eyes before she remembered something. "Wait, why were Piccolo and Te'oboe there? And how come I was asleep through all of it?"

Her mother and father glance uneasily at each other. "Bulma, we don't even know as to how you became unconscious."

"When we heard your distress signal, we dropped everything and ran to the garages. We'd only just finished talking to Te'oboe when it happened. That nice young man insisted that he come with us right after he got Piccolo."

Bulma's stomach dropped. If she had been standing, she would have fallen to the floor and blacked out again. If she sent out a distress signal whilst in the middle of nowhere with that psycho only to have two strong Namekiens (particularly Piccolo- what army wouldn't love to have him) arrive at the scene, then god-only-knows how bad things had got.

The worst part was she couldn't even remember it.

"I- but when did I… _how_?" she stuttered. Underneath her shock was an ever-increasing sense of confusion and, of course, a little bit of anger. "Where is Piccolo now?"

"He's meditating in the forest part of the Namekien compound, but honey, you really ought to-"

"No. I have to know, Dad. I have to now right now."

_Nothing. Think of nothing. Think of nothing except the trees. Think of nothing except the wind in the trees. Think of nothing. Feel the light. Feel the light running through your veins. Feel the light pass from your crown to your toes. Feel the light drive away the black energy; drive it deep into the ground. Open your mind, open your mind. Feel the light, think of nothing._

This Piccolo would chant in his mind before each meditation as a cleansing ritual. Once his mind was free of troubles, he could lose himself in peace for days at a time. And goodness did he need that now.

_Nothing. Think of nothing. Think of nothing except the trees. Think of nothing except the wind in the trees—_

To the side of him, the bushes rustled as their green leaves turn almost black in the night. The Namekien ignored his visitor and levitated himself a little bit higher, hoping it'd go away. The shadowy figure remained until it gave a self-conscious cough. He could put this off any longer

"Piccolo. There is something that I need to ask of you."

Looking down from his seat in mid air to see Te'oboe watching him with a blank expression. Although Piccolo was younger than him, Te'oboe had lived a sheltered life. He was far more peaceful than most other Namekiens Piccolo ever known. Had he the brains, he'd have made an excellent leader like Guru. However, Te'oboe was happy to play music, carry out his assigned chores and make friends as easy a he could breathe.

The lad reminded him of Goku. Just without the battle scars and less idiotic.

"What is it?"

Te'oboe continued to grasp the hem of his tunic.

"I cannot help you if you won't tell me. Though I think I already know what it is," Piccolo rumbled. The other alien gawked in alarm. "It's true, isn't it?"

"Yes." Te'oboe's shoulders sank. "It is true. If I may ask, how did you know?"

"I guessed." The other nodded, his cheeks blushing like a little boy who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "And you don't want Bulma to know?"

"No. Yes." He rubbed the top of his baldhead with uncertainty. "She is my closest friend- what would be better for her?" When the younger Namekien didn't reply, he shook his head, his gaze going to the ground. "At this moment in time, I don't know what to do. She has been seriously distressed today, the last thing she needs is me telling her that I-"

He broke off his sentence when they both herd a twig snapping in the distance. To their radar-like ears, it could have happened right next to them. Luckily, this person would still be a fair distance away.

And both just knew from sheer instinct that it would be Bulma. Great, that's exactly what I need right now, thought Piccolo. Te'oboe took his chance to thank Piccolo and leave. The remaining man waited impatiently for his next visitors arrival. The last thing he need was to explain in detail what the human had missed when she blacked out, but he owed her that much.

He just hoped that afterwards he'd be left alone.

As she was walking through the compound, Bulma realised that she wasn't wearing the same clothes as before. Now she wore her pyjamas, the white one with Hello Kitty plastered printed all over it. Her mother had to have done this. Only Bunny would choose this t dress her unconscious daughter. Bulma preferred shorts and vest tops in deep colours, short nightie satiny smooth to the touch.

Back in her room merely a few minutes ago she felt fearless and hyped up. Now paranoia started to creep its way in. Instinct told her that her mother and father weren't telling her the whole story, their blatant reluctance to talk about it only heightening her suspicion. Along with her changed clothes and mystery surrounding the reason for her unconsciousness, Bulma began to dread hearing the truth.

So lost in thought, she jumped when she saw a tall figure in white ahead, its shape wavering in the summer breeze like a ghost. "Piccolo."

"Bulma." The ghoulish shape turned and transformed back into the ominous alien se had known for years. Although he once struck fear and hatred into her heart, he no longer did. That seat was reserved for someone new.

"Vegeta." Her blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "I know he's involved. What happened to me today."

With his green arms crossed, Piccolo closed his eyes. Yes, he had a feeling that she wouldn't remember. This day was just getting better and better.

"Start off with what you remember last Bulma."

"I- he broke into my lab. He told me about a- a tracking device? Yes, that's right, I had to disarm it. One in the space pod and one in my green scouter- and one in the blue one!" She nodded as she relived the frayed memories.

"But that one was back in the deserts, near to where he first landed here so we went there and disarmed it. I remember because of the solar panel." In the back off her head, she made a mental note to do some more research into that little beauty.

"And after?" prompted the Namekien.

"And after that, we tried out the scouters. He flew one way and I walked the other." The woman gave a small shrug. "That's it. That's all I can remember."

Piccolo grunted. "According to the compound physician, you're suffering form short term amnesia from shock."

"Shock? What from?" Bulma squeaked. Images flashed through her mind. In black and white she saw a barren landscape, void of any life other than the Saiyan who lead her there. In silence he watched his aggressive mouth move with words lost to her. She saw him laugh, she saw him power up a ball burning white light, she saw him grab her wrists as she tried to land a punch on his broad chest-

With shaking hands, she pushed up her sleeve on one arm until it revealed her wrist, once clear and pale like porcelain, now with inky stars blotched across. Five to be precise. With a panicked groan she noticed the mirror image on her other wrist.

"What did he do?" Bulma began to hyperventilate as she ran her hands over her body looking for any more bruises. If she could easily miss the ones on her own wrists, then what other scrapes remained hidden under her concealing sleepwear. Particularly her lower stomach and inner thighs.

Piccolo politely turned away when the woman started to unbutton her shirt. He knew exactly what she was thinking. "He didn't rape you as far as we can tell."

Before she had completely undone her shirt, the frantic woman gawked at him. "Why, what makes you say that?"

"Your clothes were intact for one thing. Plus we don't think that's what caused your shock."

Rolling her blue eyes, Bulma raised her wrist like a prize. "What's this then, a _tattoo_?"

"No," Piccolo scowled at her snappy tone, "when Te'oboe and I arrived, you were already in your mini-jet and unconscious. You stank of vomit, you were developing bruises and you hair was a mess, but you were fine. We checked."

"What, Te'oboe? What was he doing there."

"Same as me," he mumbled. He lowerdd his voice as he looked straight into her wide eyes. "We both thought he was up to something bad. And we were both concerned for your welfare."

His gaze got deeper. "Honestly, Bulma. What were you thinking, running off to the wilderness alone with him?"

Defensively, Bulma planted her hands on here hips. "There was a tracking device! One that was going to draw attention from the wrong sorts of people! Vegeta took me there to-"

"Vegeta didn't have to take you anywhere, not without back up."

"And would you have taken me?"

"If it meant avoiding this from happening in the first place, then YES!"

Bulma opened her mouth to argue, then snapped shut it again. Finally, she sat on the floor and wiped her eyes when angry tear threatened to fall. "Avoid what from happening? Piccolo, please just tell me…"

"Alright. Here's what happened from my point of view…"

… Under the mid afternoon sun, Piccolo watched as his fellow Namekiens busied themselves with carpentry, farming and leisure. Each one of them flourished in activity of the body and soul, continuing their daily chores to the best of their ability. Today, he had been invited by Moori to teach a group of children the 'ways of the warrior' as he was by far the strongest and most experienced fighter there.

If he struggled with his patience with one kid, just imagine how bad he was with thirty.

As he was yet again about to explain the fluctuations in Ki, he heard his name being bellowed from the other side of the small village, along with several voices protesting against being violently shoved aside. It looked like bowling pins had been replaced by green aliens. The older Namek was out of breath by the time he reached Piccolo. It took him a little longer than expected to get the words out that he so despiratly needed to say. Barely had the story finished when both men powered up and soared into the sky towards the human in need.

With a bang, the two powered down as they landed before the jet. Above them, a pair of booted feet swung themselves over the edge as their owner sat up. With the sun behind him, Vegeta looked even less human (or Saiyan) than usual- his features were lost in shadows, merging with his great mane. His shape looked positively demonic as he looked down upon the new arrivals.

"I was wondering when somebody would show up. Though I have to admit it is a surprise to see you two." He slid off the roof and took two sets towards them with his arms folded across his chest and a eager smile on his now visible face. "Of all the people on this planet, it had to be _you_."

"And I'm surprised to find you still here," said Piccolo. "Now where is she?"

"Who? Be specific, Namek."

"Bulma," he growled.

Vegeta's smile only broadened. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"You know perfectly well who we are talking about, Saiyan!" shouted Te'oboe. "And you also know where she is- now tell us!"

Slowly turning his head, Vegeta considered the other Namek. Piccolo was the only Namek he could name and he would much rather keep the names to a minimum. But this one was too interesting. "Ooh, getting a bit tetchy, aren't we?"

Desperate to keep the conversation on track, Piccolo spoke over his comrade. "What have you done with her?"

Vegeta's grinning face faltered. His whole expression seemed to flicker like a broken light bulb before settling on pure annoyance. "I have not done anything to her." When he noted the dubious looks the Namekiens shared, he stepped forward and narrowed his eyes into a steely glare. "If you don't believe me, see for yourself," he grumbled. He reached behind him and rapped loudly on the metal wall of the plane behind him.

"Although," he added when Te'oboe made a move towards the door, "she may be resting for awhile. The woman seemed rather- _distressed_ earlier."

"I swear, Vegeta, that if you have harmed her in anyway-"

"Oh, swear all you like, green bean. It was nothing- nothing- to do with me." He chuckled with a dreamy expression. "You know, I had been wondering for a while if it were even possible to make her shut up. The solution is so simple it's almost… amusing."

Te'oboe drew himself to his full height, completely forgetting that, when it came to battles, he was grossly inferior. "You dare laugh when I wipe that smile off your face!"

Piccolo was about to scold him but Vegeta's dark chuckle rung in the air, amused by the playground banter. When he turned his black eyes solely to Te'oboe, Piccolo caught the look that flashed in his eyes- the damage had already been done. Finally, Vegeta spoke gently.

"What's your name, Namek?"

"_That_," spat Te'oboe, "is none of your concern. I would rather walk on hot coals then have my name fall from your _disgusting_ mouth."

"And I," replied Vegeta sinking into a defensive position, "feel the same way. Unless you spoke my name when pledging your allegiance to me, your overlord!"

That was too much for Te'oboe. With a roar, the peaceful Namekien became a ferocious fighter as he slammed himself into the cocky prince. They ripped straight through the metal walls of the jet and out of the other side, causing the vehicle to sway from side to side violently. Piccolo jumped forward to steady it, taking a moment to dart through the gaping hole. To his right, in plain view, was a clearly safe and sleeping Bulma. No blood, no wounds, just the steady raise and fall of her chest.

Hopping out the other side, Piccolo had already began removing his turban and cloak of brilliant white. Hard eyes scanned the skies to find the two fighters passing blows back and forth. Looking back, he analysed his next move- to join Te'oboe in combat? Or to remove the human from potential danger?

Meanwhile, a hundred feet off the ground, Namek and Saiyan were quickly becoming familiar with each others fists. Te'oboe had grabbed Vegeta's arm to block the oncoming punch aimed at his face, swinging him around to throw him into a nearby pillar of rock. With his opponents next move being obvious, Vegeta used his momentum to get a grip on Te'oboe's shirt and twist them so that Te'oboe landed face first into the stony wall as Vegeta's shield.

He let out a grunt of pain as a particularly sharp piece of flint ripped through his tunic and sliced the delicate green skin in his side. Quickly ramming his elbow into Vegeta's side, surprised when the other fighter leapt back in shock and giving him enough time to dislodge himself from the wall. Having recovered, Te'oboe was about to take another swing at his opponent.

Vegeta beamed with unrestrained excitement. At last, he was finally going to get the fight he so eagerly waited for. They were barely half way through this four month long waiting game and he felt that he was slowly losing it. Never before had he gone this long without battle and now he had some imbecile punching bag to play with. _So good things come to those who wait, he thought as he charged at the Namek, and I've waited LONG ENOUGH!_

Te'oboe propelled himself from the rock and was ready to block Vegeta's oncoming punch with one of his own when suddenly the Saiyan winked out of sight. He froze in mid air completely dumbstruck as he searched for his rival in every direction. In a heartbeat, he heard a zap and a low chuckle from behind him. Dread and fear filled him in the milliseconds before he felt Vegeta's gloved hands being brought down in a double fist on his spine, sending him crashing towards the ground.

Down below, Piccolo watched the whole battle as if in slow motion. Each move was perfectly carried through with a dancers grace before seamlessly morphing into the next. With his sharp reflexes, Piccolo could see Vegeta's next move a mile away and dove back into the half destructed plane to grasp Bulma's waist and pull her away. He just managed to pull them out before his companion hurtled into the vehicle, leaving nothing but a unrecognisable lump of metal in its place.

Plopping her limp form a great distance away, Piccolo swept the area with sharp eyes. From this angle, he ad a brilliant view of the canyon in which they stood just moments ago- it was identical to the battle field in which he and the other Z warriors had first waged war against that little and large Saiyan. It was here, just months ago, had he fallen in battle to save a little boy. For the first time in his life, Piccolo was part of a group- a group, he reflected, where half of them were still scattered across the sands.

_So that solves the mystery of Bulma._

He than hastened to pull the other Namekien out of the ruins. He was about to when the lump of crumpled aircraft was pushed back several feet as Te'oboe launched himself out with a great burst of strength.

"Bastard! You will regret this day!" he roared. Casually levitating in mid air, Vegeta released a dark chuckle.

"You will regret living at all!"

Fisting his hands, the prince started to power up. To summon this much energy after so long was difficult at first, but he soon got into the swing of it again. The relief was immediate and immense- it was like a great weight was slowly being removed, like pins and needles he hadn't noticed before were slowly ebbing away, channelling the tingles to his fingertips. Between this feeling and the sheer joy in escaping the mundane life he had since staying on Earth, he secretly didn't want this day to end.

As more and more power gathered in his palms, he started to form two glowing balls of pale purple light crackling as it grew. He wanted to just blast the fallen Namek below but that would be no fun. He needed the fool to witness his wrath, to feel his skin blister and burn. He wanted the Namek to look into his eyes and realise too late he had made a mistake in challenging him. When he saw his opponent leap from the wreckage, h took his chance and manoeuvred his arms to begin his attack. He'd be watching fireworks in seconds.

Right on Te'oboe's tail, Piccolo foresaw the Saiyans next move and could feel the immense rise in power like static running down his spine. With his new strength, Vegeta could easily blow up the earth ten times over and has every reason to do so. With an annoyed grunt, Piccolo doubled his speed and zoomed straight past Te'oboe and set his sights on Vegeta. After all, he'd already died once; he did not plan on doing it again any time soon.

"Vegeta- _stop_!"

The buzz of energy surrounding him failed to drown out Vegeta's cruel cackle as he aimed the spheres of Ki right at Te'oboe. They were the size of tennis balls, a brilliant glowing white with purple streams escaping from between his fingers.

"Say your prayers, Nam-!"

From out of nowhere, something fast and powerful collided with him. He had been so focused on Te'oboe that he hadn't noticed something big and green swoop in from underneath and ram its shoulder into Vegeta's unprotected hip with a sickening crunch. Vegeta stifled yelp more in surprise than pain as he spun head over heals even higher in the sky closely followed by both Piccolo and Te'oboe.

He stopped himself and levitated upright. He looked down at his hands and what remained of his gloves. The smooth white fabric looked as if it had been slashed open by burning claws, the edges black with soot and some parts still glowing with sizzling orange embers. His skin looked no different.

Just as he was about fire his attack, Vegeta opened his hands as far as they would go to completely release the wave of unrestrained power. When Piccolo had crashed into him, his quick reflexes had curled his fingers into tight fists ready to punch the offender, accidentally crushing down on the Ki balls before he had a chance to be rid of them- the result was like an explosion in each hand.

The others could see the damage too- or rather; they could see the smoke rising from his palms and smell the damage. They exchanged nervous glances as Vegeta's face turned from shock, to disgust, then rage.

"You- you idiot Namek!" he spat. "You think that a little blister is going to stop me? After that cheap trick, you're going to pay! Attacking me whilst my back was turned? What a disgrace, you coward!"

"I don't want to fight you right now," Piccolo grumbled, "but if I have to, I will."

"Speak for yourself, Piccolo-" started Te'oboe, but even as he said it, he could feel his little strength diminishing. The Saiyan didn't have a scratch on his apart from scorched hands, and those were self-inflicted.

"Ooh, the Pickle and the musician; I _tremble_ with fear…"

"-But I will agree that today is not the day for a battle."

The two green aliens continued backing each other up. "I'd rather it be another time. After all, where's the fun in fighting someone whose only technique is kicking?"

Vegeta howled with fury. The Namek had a damn good point; without his hands, he was powerless to prevent or provoke any attack. He only had his legs and, thanks to Piccolo's hero swoop, his right hip was killing him.

He could fight, but it would be a tough challenge. He could back down but it would be done without remorse for as long as he chose to do so. He refused to just crawl back to his room like an injured animal. Especially behind the two smug looking green and pink men. He was not some disobedient dog.

He crossed his arms in unspoken submission. "Good thinking Namek. I don't think you could live with the humiliation of being defeated by a man who wouldn't even raise a finger." He flashed a wicked smirk before adding, "and there is no doubt that I could. Particularly you," he hissed at Te'oboe.

The two green aliens glared hard at the Saiyan who gave an equally stony expression back before his aura burst into life and he flew in the opposite direction.

… "So that's all that happened? No deaths, no drastic re-landscaping, NOTHING?"

Piccolo frowned at how she had summed up his day. It was true that nobody died and the damage was so minimal and looked natural anyway, but only just. Anymore than that and it would have called unwanted attention.

"No. There, you have it- my story, Te'oboe's story, an explanation of what happened to you; are we done yet?"

"I found Yamcha's body," she slowly croaked out. "I found Yamcha's body!" She tried so hard to bring up a memory of it but was unable to. When she told Piccolo about this, he merely looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Would you want to?"

"Would you think of me as a bad girlfriend if I said no?" was her only reply. Almost as if to prove his lack of judgment towards her girlfriend skills, he turned his back on her and prepared to levitate himself to the damn tree tops if he had to, as long as he'd get some peace and quiet.

She rushed forward and tugged on the bottom of his white cape "Hey, wait! I never said I had no more questions, did I?"

The Namekien relented, allowing just a few more moments of his time.

"Where is he now?" Bulma looked at her hands, which were rung together in grief. "What happened to him and Tien after I… you know? They've not just been left there, have they?"

"Te'oboe and I took it upon ourselves to remove them, yes-"

"Where to?"

"We burnt them away with low power energy balls-"

"You didn't bury them?" Her blue eyes flashed with shock but also irritation. "Whatever happened to 'rest in peace'? I might have wanted to visit his grave, or lay down some flowers or something, that's what people do!

"What Goku died the first time, he disappeared right in front of me- Chichi didn't believe he was dead for a whole three days, she just though he'd wandered off somewhere. And now? His body is gone completely again! And what about Krillin, or Chioutzu, or Tien, eh? None of us can go and sit by their gravestone like any other normal person does?

"_And where am I supposed to put his flowers!_" she finally roared.

Before her, Piccolo's cheeks started to turn a darker shade of green, as it was the first, and hopefully last, time he'd seen this woman lose her rag like that.

"This way, they will all be revived in a completely new body, instead of returning to a rejuvenated version of themselves." With an abrupt speed, he took a step backwards and jumped into the air before Bulma could gather air to stop him.

Left alone and even more bemused than before, Bulma dragged herself through the night and back to the living quarters. Her headache was beginning to catch up on her again and without the adrenaline rush she had experienced just half an hour ago, she was starting to feel exhausted. All she needed now was a good long sleep.

:D


	15. Bad Weather

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: You know when it plays out in your head but it just doesn't seem to want to be written don on paper/screen... :(

~**R&R please x**

Though it was almost midnight for Bulma, somewhere in the far west, it was only dusk. It was small compared to a city yet big compared to a town but ultimately dwarfed by its neighbour-a mountain named _Akira_, famed for its colossal size and history.

It was on this mountain that Vegeta eventually found himself. After that show back in Capital City, he was determined not to set foot there until Kakarrot's return within the next two months. In the meantime, he planned on preparing himself to face the third class fool who transformed into the Legendary on top of the Princes grave.

That same image had been playing itself round and round in his head ever since. He just wanted it to stop; he just wanted to emerge the victor once and for all.

It had taken an hour maximum for him to arrive at this desolate little spot of the ominous mountain. Here there was some grass and trees and a few fallen logs. The main reason Vegeta chose this place though was the ready-to-use camp consisting of a tent, fire and several packets of food. It had been used by some passing hikers, yet one look at the shadowy figure lurking in the bushes with a red aura surrounding it was more than enough for the hikers to kindly give up their camp and run screaming in the other direction. If Vegeta wasn't so pissed off, he'd have joked about their 'generosity'.

After polishing off yet another packet of boil in the bag spaghetti, he leant against one of the logs to brood. The day had started out so bland and boring (like every other day) and yet here he was, eating miniscule meals that tasted like cardboard and wondering of the fire would last through the night.

It was better than going back to CC though. Substantial food and warm shelter just weren't worth the shit he'd face from the others. That blue haired idiot would squeal some bullshit about him and the cucumbers would come running like they always do. The only ones who wouldn't would be the old man and his ditz of a wife, but they'd sit back and watch from afar. _Laughing_.

Ok, not laughing, but that didn't matter to Vegeta. He would not be made fun of in front of anyone.

He had turned down a fight. He may have been injured but he had endured worse battles with supposedly fatal wounds, yet here he was, still alive and kicking. But only with one leg. When he had made camp, he had tended to his injuries' quickly, washing his hands in a clean stream. His right hip, however, he could do nothing apart from rest it. When Piccolo slammed into him earlier, he must have dislocated it briefly, the summersault through the air popping it back into place before he had even acknowledged it. He kept his ankle propped up on another log and watched with tired eyes as the swelling slowly went down. It wasn't long before the day to finally catch up on him and sleep took him in its numbing blanket.

/

Gohan woke and looked at his alarm clock. His mother allowed him one day per week with an extra hour sleep, meaning his studying started at ten instead of the usual nine. Right now, his clock said it was 6:32 in the morning- he didn't have to get up until eight.

_Typical, the one day you can sleep in is when you can't sleep at all_, especially when the night was a humid, pestering summers night.

He tried to roll over and use the pillows to drown out the early morning birdsong as the summer sun crept between his curtains even at this time but soon gave up. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, plus all the burrowing was making him hot. Instead, he lay there contemplating just forgetting his lazy morning and getting on with his work or making the most of the peace and quiet.

He was still thinking about this when his mother's voice wafted up the stairs and through the wooden door, his hybrid hearing sharper than most humans. He wasn't at all surprised to hear her awake and moving around at this time. The whole family were early risers and Chichi often talked about her constant busy days.

What surprised him though was his mother talking on the phone. Who would be on the phone at half six in the morning?

"… Good riddance to him! Nothing but bad luck has happened since that man entered our lives and his leaving is long overdue… Oh now don't think like that, I'm sure he's probably just crawled into a tree to lick his wounds as they say- well if what you've just told me is true I doubt he can do much damage, can he? Leave it to the Nameks, they can find him. I hear they're superb warriors too."

Gohan was now fully awake. What on earth was his mother going on about?

"What? No, Bulma, I still don't like Pikachu or whatever his name is- okay, _Piccolo_, but the rest of them are ok. Besides… Ever since I allowed Gohan to start training sessions with him again, he seems a lot better. Like last week, he wanted to play a board game with me- he hasn't done that since before- you know…" her voice trailed off.

"That's exactly what I meant earlier- that man has been noting but bad news, Bulma, so I'd count your lucky stars if I were you. With any luck, he'll leave this planet altogether. He'll find a way, probably. Look, I don't know why you think it's your fault he left, but Vegeta was such a mean bastard anyway- no, Gohan's asleep, he can't hear me- he was such a mean bastard that he'd have left anyway. Just accept that you're not to blame, I mean the Nameks all seem to think you're a great host. It's not worth worrying over."

Slowly, Gohan had sat up and swung his legs over the bed, his feet swinging over the edge as his mother finished up her phone call. Soon, she'd leave to walk into their nearby field to collect some food for that night's dinner. All he had to do is wait a little longer. He heard the click of the front door and the little song his mother hummed as she carried her basket. The boy had already thrown on some shorts and t-shirt before she had even left, and the second the coast was clear, he opened his window and snuck into the early morning sky.

/

Vegeta was still leaning against the tree he had collapsed against last night, his sleep surprisingly deep for once despite the 90 degree angle and solid bark under his spine. He had woken up a few minutes ago, but had chosen to keep his eyes shut. There was something much more comforting in those blissful minutes between waking and rising but the sky had a different plan. With a flash and crack of thunder overhead, he opened his eyes. A few while later, the lightning flashed before him again and the space between the electric slaps and the booming thunder became smaller and smaller. A few tray drops of rain flittered down to his face before truning into a proper downpour.

As one particularly bright lightning bolt illuminated the sky, his sharp eyes narrowed in on a small silhouette in the sky, closely followed by a whitish stream of light that clashed with the dark clouds. His previously blank face twisted into a deep scowl when the dot became bigger and bigger. He now knew who it was, if not by sight, then the familiarity of its Ki.

Using the tree, Vegeta slid his body up to stand against the tree in a casual pose, his arm instantly crossing over his chest. He didn't bother lowering his Ki, the boy could sense it even whilst asleep anyway, he concluded. He already wasn't very happy with how day had started only minutes ago."

Gohan landed about twenty feet away, feet slipping slightly with the muddy earth between them. He was panting slightly. Not only had he flown fast enough to save time, but he also had to work to keep his power level down in fear of Piccolo finding him.

Dodging the deadly lightning strikes had been hard as well.

Vegeta glared at him while he got his breath back, keeping his tongue with what little patience he had. He was unsure about why the boy would have sought him out and, combined with his lazy mood, he wanted to find out why. That would mean letting the boy speak, he thought. His day was getting better and better.

When neither boy nor man spoke, the rain, and the silence, continued to get heavier until Vegeta would take it no longer. "What the hell do you want?"

Gohan did little more than twiddle his fingers in an anxious dance. "Ah, I- err…"

"Listen kid," he spat out, "if you've come here to stutter like a buffoon, then get lost. I haven't the care to sit here and listen to you whine1"

"-I've come to see if you're alright!" Gohan rushed out before clamping his lips together.

The Saiyan grunted, in both confirmation and disgust at the sentimentality. "What's it to you?" he shrugged, letting his arms fall loose in apathy.

In the rain, Gohan's embarrassing little bowl cut stuck even closer to his head, the hair and water constantly poking him in his dark eyes. Pushing it out of the way, he looked closer at the full blood. Vegeta's armour was still broken like last time, but now he had dark rings under his eyes. Gohan looked closely at his wrists, noting the little streams of pink oozing from his red hands. He winced when he saw the deep gashes etched onto his palms and looked back at Vegeta's glowering face.

"I heard you were hurt. And I can see you are." Here, Vegeta quickly tucked his under under his armpits, disguising the act as a furious crossing of his arms yet again.

"Ha, me hurt?" he snorted. "And what would you do about it, fetch me a Band-Aid? Run along home."

Gohan frown at the slap in the face. He really wanted to help out whenever he could, and ever since he witness the Saiyan getting beaten down by that Frieza… it brought alive a part inside of him that faced the villains, helped the helpless and saved the world. Like his father. Only then he was held back and forced to watch as every last bit of life Vegeta had left in his was crushed out. He felt guilty about it ever since.

"No. Not unless you agree to go back as well."

"I don't have a home. You know that, kid."

"You could always go back to Capsule Corp," he relented. "I heard my mum talking to Bulma this morning, she feels like it's her fault you left."

"It is her fault I left!" Vegeta roared, taking a step forward. "Not that I ever really wanted to be there anyway!"

Gohan noticed the wince that flashed across Vegeta's face when he stepped forward. He seemed to favour his left leg as he stood, his right taking less weight than normal. "But I'm sure she's sorry! You can't live out here forever!"

"I'll only have to wait two and a half more months before I plan on leaving." He wrinkled his nose at the child. "As soon as I'm finished with your idiot of a father, I won't look back at this little planet!"

A deadly flash ended his words, and Gohan was momentarily awe struck by the loathing in the man's voice. Then again, Vegeta had used this threat several times before, and it wasn't as bad now as when they had all arrived back on earth together.

_And my dad would lose to him anyway_, Gohan mentally added. Either way, I'm not losing him again. That mean Vegeta would have to go one way or another. The little boys shoulders slumped as the rain got heavier.

Looking into the grey sky, Gohan frowned. I would take even longer to get home with the heavens open like this. Luckily, his mathematician mind calculated the speed of the storm with the slight difference in time zone. As soon as it started raining back home, his mother would come back in. If he left now, he could be home just in time to jump into the bath and his mother would never have to know that he'd been gone.

"Whatever you say, Vegeta. But do you really want to spend the next couple of months hiding out here?" he asked, floating in the air.

"Just beat it kid."

With that, Gohan turned and sped away, leaving Vegeta to get back to his sulking. The boy just barely got in the tub before the front door opened and his other voice called out. He sighed in relief. What a little devil he was.

/

_Blasted devil of a child! Somebody ought to teach him a lesson in priorities- treating me like a damn runaway little boy!_

Vegeta kicked down another tree, this time to vent his frustration. The last tree he knocked down was to find some dry wood for a fire, but his foul mood only worsened when he saw the wood was either sodden with rain or damp with resin. He needed a fire soon, the heat that had crackled through the air like static during the storm had disappeared when the rain let up slightly, only now it was windy as well and wet and cold. His blue body suit could help protect him from many hars climates, but itwasn't in very good condition anyway with most of his body heat spilling out of the whole on his stomach and back.

And his fingers were getting ever so slightly numb too.

This planets climate patterns are impossible to foresee," he grumbled. This tree was also soaked through. He gave up quickly, deciding to just settle down somewhere. Above him, he could see where two close trees had overlapped, making its web of bushes much thicker than the others. Underneath, the forest floors wasn't as wet and, when he levitated to its lowest branch, nor were the leaves.

Using the backs of his hands and his feet, he managed to twist the wiry vines and lush leaves until a very basic but uncomfortable looking nest, hidden and protected from the harsh winds.

It wasn't easy to get in; every time he lifted his hands or feet away, another branch would snap out of place, toying with his nerves. Finally, he managed to flop his whole body onto the softer leaves, and after a while he figured it wasn't as uncomfortable as it originally looked. It felt more like a hammock than a nest and the sound of the rain, which was starting to pick up again, tapping on the canopy above, was quite relaxing as the cold sensation in his body started to fade away.

He lay there for a while, and did nothing but listen to the rain. It was quite fitting, the storms overhead arriving only when he was finally free of that human compound. The place itself, with its rich furnishings and superb training facilities, was the closest thing to a palace he'd stayed in for years. No, it was the people amongst its brightly coloured walls he detested. If it weren't for those annoying creatures, he wouldn't have set foot on the planet in the first place, let alone nesting in a tree.

_Maybe Freiza's nick-name of Monkey wasn't so unfitting after all._

_/_

Putting down the phone, Bulma scanned her desk for any last little bits to do before she called it a day. Everybody down the hall from her office were packing up for the weekend, so why couldn't she? It seemed like all she had done that day was receive phone calls from suppliers, other departments, the media, you name it. Every time the small black phone rang, she hesitated. Yesterday, Vegeta had flown off into the big wide world on his own and she was worried sick- not so much about him, but for the world in general. It was no secret that for no reason whatsoever, a random city could be reduced to dust because of that man. Whenever the phone rang, she would imagine it being about some great catastrophe, but alas it was just another company asking her about some advanced piece of technology. It seemed Vegeta either wasn't fussed about destruction or, according to the Namekien's, he wasn't able to. But then how would he be able to eat without his hands- what would he eat, for that matter? In a world where everything is just as alien to him as he is to the world?

Bulma wrung her hands on her cluttered table. Maybe she was anxious for him as well. No doubt about it in her eyes, it was her fault.

She stood up and walked away, her jacked half shrugged on when her phone rang one more time. She glared at it, looked out her window to the darkening, wet sky, and then walked away, locking her door on the way out without a single glance. It wasn't worth staying an extra twenty minutes.

Her black dolly heels clicked down the hall, drowning out her cheerful voice emanating from the answering machine. The little red light flashed brightly in the dark empty room as the machine recorded the message.

"Hey, Bulma, it's Gohan. I gotta be quick coz my mum doesn't know I'm using the phone right now, but listen. I found Vegeta this morning- I don't know what happened to him but he looks kinda bad, like he'd been beaten up or something. Call when you get this message- tell my mum it's about a new possible book or something, and I'll show you where he is. Call back soon."


	16. Ups & Downs

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: Sorry I've been gone for a while... this story's been hard to update. Uni's a lot of fun, but it's takes up all your energy/time/creativity. Anyways, not the best chapter in the world, just a look into a really bad day for Bulma. Yeah, sometimes I feel like everything's against me -_-

~**R&R please x  
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"Oh for goodness sake… _I don't know_!" Bulma glared up at her mother standing by the window. "Like I told you yesterday, and this morning, and five minutes ago, I have no idea what's happened to him!"

"Oh, Bulma, I know we're both worried about him, but I can't understand why he went in the first place, when we all know it's wasn't his fault. That poor boy, now he's all alone out there, with no one to talk to-"

Indeed, the stressed woman was very worried-it had been a whole weekend since the great Saiyan Prince had pulled his vanishing act. Both she and her mother were disheartened by Vegeta's lack of companion; though for different reasons. Bunny, a naïve, bubbly soul, believes that everybody should have a friend, especially in times of need. Bulma, however, saw isolation, boredom and anger, eventually leading to the prince carrying out one of his favourite 'pass times'.

She had kept a close eye on the news channel ever since.

"-and just when I bought a whole bunch of different foods, too. That young man never said what food he liked, but he always seemed to eat it all. Why, I haven't seen an appetite quite like that since Goku!" The blonde tapped her manicured finger to her chin. "You know, I've always had this knack for guessing peoples favourites, but with Vegeta, I found it really hard. I guess I'll never know now," she sighed.

Bulma, who had laid her blue head in her arms upon the table, rolled her eyes. There's more to life than cooking, gardening or playing hostess but apparently nobody had told her mother that.

"He didn't have a favourite food. He doesn't like anything, let alone love it. He's just a hot-headed, insensible man with no heart. He looks down his nose at everything, including us."

Bunny gave a small gasp. "Oh, my! Bulma Buruma Briefs, how could you say that?"

"Mph, with ease. It's true. He's a cruel guy."

Bunny, meanwhile, mangled her tea towel until it twisted back on itself. In her curly head, she was warring with herself. Her only child became almost unrecognisable in those few seconds, yet she could never punish her. But what Bulma had just said was wrong, labelling him as cruel when Bulma herself was being just as cold.

Finally, the blonde walked slowly from the room, more downhearted than she had been all weekend. She paused by the door and looked back. In a murmur that Bulma could just about hear, she said, "I raised my daughter to be a nice, forgiving person. What happened to her?"

She winced as her mother left, her eyes tight shut. There's nothing quite like the shame and guilt brought upon you by your parents, even when you're in your (late) twenties. Bulma lasted all of five minutes before grudgingly getting to her feet and following Bunny.

She couldn't find her. That woman could walk awfully quickly when she wanted to, but even when Bulma continued to look for her, she was nowhere to be seen- not in the lounge, balcony, and garden- not anywhere! Bulma let out a frustrated huff under the trees- she was the sort of woman who would not apologize lightly because she hated being wrong (especially if she was telling the truth- like she had!). Now it felt like she would never say it, and she won't be forgiven until then.

She started to turn towards the main buildings when something, or someone, green caught her eye. Leaning against a small pale dome of Namekien make was Te'oboe himself. She hadn't seen him since… since the day of the 'scouter incident' as she had called it. She had tried looking for him, but hadn't found him. She suddenly felt as though she hadn't looked hard enough. The man had fought for her in her time of need, as it were; the least he deserved was a thank you.

Gently walking over to him, Bulma was surprised to see the look of dreaminess on his emerald face, a perfect mixture of sadness and serenity. In his hand was the Pat'derra, smooth and shiny but silent. He was as still as a statue as the tree tops fluttered in the winds.

She was in arms reach of him when he finally noticed her, jumping at the sight of her denim knees so close to his shoulders. He stared hard at her face for a few long seconds before cracking a lazy smile. "Good morning, Bulma."

"Hey, there," she answered automatically, but her heart wasn't in it. Not today. She leant against the dome and slid down, letting her head rest against its smooth paleness and her long legs stretch before her.

He picked absently at the hem of his long tunic, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with her nearby. With his other hand, he rubbed his thumb back and forth against the polished instrument.

"Do you feel better today?"

With her eyes still closed, Bulma rolled her head slightly sideways. "Hm? Yeah, sure. Why?"

"The last time I saw you, you were unconscious. I was told later that you're suffering from memory issues?"

"I am. But no biggie, I'm not sure I want to remember!" Her now open eyes looked away with visible regret. "And it's been ages since we last met up…"

"Ages," Te'oboe echoed. He too stared off into the distance.

In the corner of his eye, he saw her blue hair, now shoulder length, swish as she turned to look at him. "Hey, didn't you say you had something to tell me?"

If he had been looking at her, she'd have seen the shock flashing through his eyes. To his credit, he didn't flinch in anyway, and his breathing was deep and regular, but he forgot how to speak for a moment or two before he cleared his throat.

"You have a good memory," he remarked with a smile. But it was only fleeting as he looked down at his lap, the Pat'derra rolling lazily in his hands. He remained hushed long enough to draw Bulma's attention but not long enough for her to interrupt.

"There is a student of mine; Fipple is his name, who stands above the others in my class. For you see, Bulma, at a young age, each Namekian is said to discover their true path in life, they key in keeping their body and soul open- I would assume you would call it a talent on this planet, only this runs much deeper. The few who had not discovered their path, or discovered it and ignored it, have never… truly been happy."

Leaning forward to get a better look at his downcast face, she asked, "Do you know somebody like that?" She was rather hoping it wasn't him, but it could explain his dismal mood.

"Thankfully, no. I've only heard stories, but they are unhappy nonetheless."

She nodded. "So, I'm guessing that a talented musician like yourself found your path?"

"Yes, I did," he murmured more to himself. He lifted the small instrument to his eye level and gazed at it as he continued. "Musicians, craftsmen, gardeners, so on. Fighters were common, though we rarely battled, and there are a few exceptional Namekians in this field- not just fighter, but warriors."

"Like Piccolo?"

"Correct. The rarest were healers, like young Dende. Besides the old man in the next village, he is the only one I've met. Apparently lord Guru was one, too.

"Uh-huh." Bulma nodded again before trying to get back on track. "So a student of yours appears to have found his path as well? You must feel so proud, teacher!" she flashed him a smile which she noticed he failed to return.

Slowly, he lowered the pat'derra and looked in the far distance.

"Not yet. He must be tested, both for his skill and devotion, just as I was. He must undertake this test in solitude with me as his master and not his teacher." Nodding to the empty skies by the horizon, Te'oboe wordlessly let his answer be known.

"For how long will you be gone exactly?" she mumbled.

"For however long it takes. Earth time is measured differently to my home planets."

She had a bad feeling about this. "You'll be back before the wish for New Namek, right? I couldn't take longer than six months right?"

"Perhaps. When it was my turn, I left as a child and returned as an adolescent. If our time were to run over- do not worry, the Dragon balls would still teleport the two of us to our new home. We will not, as this planet would call it, miss our ride." He tried to smile. Tried to. Bulma looked away as she suddenly felt more alone than ever. No friends, Yamcha, or even her own mother.

It may not have been his fault, but she still couldn't keep the hard edge in her voice. "Uh, wow you 'masters' don't take things lightly, do you?"

"It's part of our peoples traditions, and I became aware that Earth, too, had a similar process-"

"Yeah, it does, Goku and Krillin were only young when they went to stay with their master, but it's different!"

Te'oboe frowned. He knew she wasn't going to take it lightly at all, and deeply regretted saying anything, but she was bound to notice when he disappeared altogether without saying goodbye. He was going to miss her.

"To you, perhaps, this seems an excessive task, but I must do this-"

"But why now? Why not wait until New Namek?" She shifted so that she was no longer sitting next to him but to the side to face him. Her legs were tucked under her as she forgot about the grass staining her deep blue jeans. "If that kid's so damn natural at it, then he's hardly gonna lose it for a few month, is he?"

"It will be six months before our wish can be made. We simply cannot wait that long."

"Argh! I cannot believe my luck!" she threw her small hands into the air and hopped up. Before she could storm away though, she allowed herself a brief moment to glare right at him, and he squirmed slightly, his apology stuck in this throat. "You know how lonely I've been lately. My oldest friends are _dead_, apart from a seven year old, his control freak mother, and my boyfriend of twelve years was _killed_ by two evil Saiyans, one of them having gone walk abouts on the freaking planet because he did I don't know what! _And now I've upset my own mother_!"

Te'oboe could only sit in silence as she sped across the lawn grumbling to herself. He had seen her tirades on her bad days, but nothing to this extent. Picking up his beloved instrument, he gently picked his tired body from the garden floor and wandered back to the others in the Parks. As he suspected, they had anticipated his return and greeted his by his home and stayed with him for a while, though words did little to ease the massive weight in his chest.

Rather than dwell on the mass betrayal from what seemed like her only friends, Bulma continued the search for her mother. Circling the living quarters once more she was close to giving up and take to sulking in her room.

At a last ditch attempt, she went towards her father's labs. As he had gotten older, Dr Briefs had used the assembling rooms less and less, choosing instead to partake in the chemistry side of things or, increasingly common, the office. He looked up from a report on Bio-fuels when he heard his daughter's shoes click-clacking on the metal stairs.

"Ah, sweetheart, nice of you to drop by." He smiled. The whole time, his cigarette hadn't left his mouth.

Bulma went straight to the subject. "Have you seen mum?"

"I think she mentioned something about her knitting circle. She's getting on very well with it, I hear-"

"When is she back?"

Dr Briefs looked over from behind his large desk to his only child. At the moment, her arms were crossed tightly across her chest as she leant sideways in the door with a sour look but underneath that frown of hostility was a frown of melancholy.

"What's the matter? Why not sit down and tell me. Sit," he added when he saw the look of uncertainty on her face. A face that was just like her mothers, including her eyes. If it weren't for the aqua hair on top (something from his own mother), Dr Briefs could easily mistake one for the other. Some people thought they were sisters instead.

Bulma slowly walked over to the black leather chairs before flopping into its softness like a ragdoll. She rested her heavy head on her hand.

"Mum's… mad with me…"

"Your mother, mad at you? She doesn't have a temper to speak of-"

"Ok, she's upset," Bulma clarified. At the shocked look of her father, he shoulders slumped. "She was hurt over what I said about…" she trailed off.

"About what? I couldn't quite hear that."

"About _him_."

"Who, now?"

"You know who."

The old man tilted his head with honest confusion. "Err, Yamcha? I thought you couldn't wait to have him back?"

"NO!" She screamed, glaring hard at him. "I mean, I am looking forward to being with him again, but I meant NO I'm not talking about him!" she huffed back into her seat and grumbled something about them treating her like a teenager.

"Then… who are we talking about?" Dr Briefs asked with pure confusion.

Finally having had enough, Bulma rested her head on her arm again. "Vegeta, that's who. He's such a pig-headed idiot!" she hissed, clawing her shaking hands in front of her, imagining his think neck under her fingers, her anger increased tenfold after her chat with Te'oboe.

"Ahh, has he returned then?" Dr Briefs leant back in this swivel chair with a look of satisfaction. The fierce shake of his daughters head told him he was wrong. He leant forward until his elbows leant against the white wood desk.

"Well, I could understand why you would be angry at him for his sudden absence. Although I cannot say the same for your mother and I. Now why don't you tell your old papa what happened earlier?"

Crossing her arms, Bulma quoted her whole conversation to her father. He remained silent as he watched the anger practically vanish as she ended.

Sitting back, he stroked his bristly moustache. "Well, darling, I can see why you lost your temper, but I can also understand your mother. She's right you know. We both raised you, and your attitude doesn't exactly make us feel… like we've done a good job."

"_But it's true_! He's a bad person, dad!" Bulma persisted.

"From what you told me about Yamcha, Tien, Chioutzu, Piccolo… goodness, Bulma, they were all bad in their own way. Yet have you not travelled across space and thrown yourself into danger to bring them back?"

She sighed and looked away. Although Vegeta wasn't so much bad as just plain evil… her father had a point. People change, and though she couldn't wait for the day when that Saiyan left for good, so far, he hadn't hurt one of them. Well, apart from Te'oboe, and he was asking for it.

At the mere reminder of her Namekian friend, she stood up. She was looking forward to a good brood over him but already knew that she didn't want him to leave without an apology from him, but not yet. First, she wanted to smooth things out with her parents. Stepping around his desk, Bulma leant down to wrap her arms tightly around her dad shoulders. What she really wanted was to sit on his lap like she used to when she was smaller. But as his lavender hair started to turn grey and her body grew into a young lady's, that had stopped long ago. Knowing this, he stood up in her grasp and hugged back easier than before.

As she left her father's office, the young heiress headed for her own down the hall. Unlike her fathers, hers was much more sleek and modern. Both had whites and blacks as their colour scheme, like CC's logo, but he preferred wooden tables and simple but classic tastes, whereas she has lavished hers with polished glass and shiny metals. Her bookshelves had a quirky, abstract layout on the far wall instead of rows like lined paper. The smooth black flooring even had hints of glitter in them, sparkling as she walked the way to her large glass desk and mac laptop. The whole room spoke executive whilst at the same time screamed woman. That was exactly how she liked it.

It's amazing how your day could switch between good and bad. One long dasy of Ups and Downs. Tired form all the conflicting emotions, Bulma sank into the soft black leather behind her desk and switched on the mac. Wasn't there a show her mother had said she'd like to see? A musical no doubt, and Bulma was sure she'd remember the name of it when she pulled up a list of what was on. He was just about to type in her password when she saw the red light on her phone flash. It was slow, only one message. If there was only one, then it either wasn't urgent, or a social call. She didn't feel in the mood for any communication right now, so went on to find the show. Yes, it was another Sound of Music enactment, that's the sort of thing her mother liked. It only took a while to book the tickets, their Briefs Family reputation getting the best seats and service available, and then she leant back in her chair with her hands behind her head. Now she had cleared her head, Bulma was starting to relax.

But she kept looking at that phone. It- troubled her. Every steady flash brought a sense of dread so forced herself to ignore it. But her eyes kept getting drawn to its read heartbeat until she hesitantly yielded to the play button;

"Hey, Bulma, it's Gohan. I gotta be quick coz my mum doesn't know I'm using the phone right now, but listen. I found Vegeta this morning- I don't know what happened to him but he looks kinda bad, like he'd been beaten up or something. Call when you get this message- tell my mum it's about a new possible book or something, and I'll show you where he is. Call back soon."

Bulma blinked in shock as the boy finished his call. The smooth woman's voice of the machine told her that the call had been received on Friday.

And it was now Sunday afternoon.

"Oh my God!" She cried out. Bulma instantly hit the reply button and waited impatiently as the phone rung at the other end. _This whole time we'd been waiting for word of him_, she thought as she drummed her fingers on the desk. _This whole time! This whole time! This whole time!_

"Hello, Son residence?"

_Finally_! "Hello, Chichi? It's Bulma. How are you doing, you and Gohan?"

"We're fine, thank you. And yourself?"

"Good, good." Swivelling in her chair, Bulma was unsure how she was going to be able to speak to Gohan alone. Heck, Chichi would probably find it odd that she would seek out a seven year old for a social chat. Then it hit her. "Say, Gohan isn't free this afternoon, is he?"

There was a brief pause before his mother asked, "What? Why do you want to know if my son's free?"

"Well, you see the company's been working on this new invention, and it's finished early. So I was wondering if that little genius would like to, you know, have look? I'll take him though all the schematics and technical fun. The problem is, it's being looked over by a potential investor tomorrow, and then he'd have missed the opportunity…"

"Why this project? You do dozens each year," Chichi said.

"Yeah, but seeing as it's the weekend and everybody's home… well it'd be like a school trip for him, wouldn't it?" When there was no reply from the raven haired woman Bulma knew she was nearly there. "If you want, I won't take him into the labs with the machinery or chemicals, but I'll show him everything else. I've had my _top scientists and mathematicians_ working on it," she smiled, hoping Chichi would have picked up on the emphasis.

"...That sounds like a really good offer, Bulma, but I'm busy round the house. Not to mention I got to go grocery shopping and go to the bookstore-"

"That's ok, I'll pick him up and drop him off for you! So, what time shall I get there?"

~**Internet hugs to anybody who knows what a Fipple is without googling it XD**


	17. Tree Tops

**A/N:** Hey all! Wow, can you belive it? I finally managed to update this story! *fanfare* okay, so not all that great, but still... I had a lot of trouble trying to save this story when the crappy laptop died on me for a while, so I had to make some random one shots to make up for it.

I did already write the next two chapters when my laptop failed so I lost them. No matter, this came out instead, and I kid of merged the two togetehr to get one** BIG** chapter, so I expact a comment or two **:D**

plus, I checked and this story has reached 16,000 hits! I don't know about you, bu I'm very pleased- thank you all!

**Please R & R x**

_without further delay, here your are!_

* * *

><p>Bulma's craft landed outside the Son residence with Chichi standing expectantly by the door. The grass underneath them was still wafting slightly as the engines died down, but Bulma had already made her way to the little house before it had stopped completely. Sadly, the mother had only just started.<p>

"I've already packed some food for him so you don't have to worry about him getting hungry, or what to feed him. And don't let him play with any acids, or heavy machinery- oh! And I need him home by four o'clock."

"Chichi! It's already half one and by the time we take away travelling-"

"Fine, five then," the brunette huffed, "but no later, his dinner will be getting cold."

Bulma promised Chichi this, hearing the sound of the front door opening behind them. "Oh hey, kiddo! Ready to… hit… the…Woah, Gohan!"

The little boy stood there with his hand on the door handle, seriously contemplating shutting it again and hiding. The smart grey trousers weren't too bad, and he could live with the clumpy black shoes (polished of course) but his shirt… his shirt was a plain white tee, about two sizes too big on him. It sported a print like a real shirt, including buttons and a collar. It had a bright purple bowtie at the top with a picture of some pens in a pocket.

The worst part though was the button badges on the other side; "_I (heart) science_" and "_Maths is FUN!"_

"Doesn't he look simply adorable?" Chichi cried. "I won't have my little boy looking anything less than smart on his first school trip- and to Capsule Corporation itself!"

Bulma nodded as Chichi gushed over her son. "Yeah, yeah, very smart… Well, let's go, Gohan! Lots to see and all that."

The two climbed into aircraft with Chichi waving all the way. It was only after they had sped over the horizon with big smiles plastered to their faces did they finally relax.

Releasing a gush of air, Gohan said "I thought we'd never get away. It's over in that direction, by the way."

Changing course, the heiress put it on autopilot so she could face Gohan sitting besides her. "There's some stuff I need to know, kiddo. First of all- what on earth is going on with that shirt?"

"Oh, this," he said, blushing. "My mum got it for me ages ago. It's not so bad what it's just around the house, but this is the first time anyone else has seen it. It looks stupid on me, doesn't it?"

"Well, maybe the badges go a little too far… Anyway, you can change into your Namekien stuff, right?"

He nodded as he patted his backpack. "I snuck it in there when she wasn't looking," he smirked. He was up instantly when Bulma suggested he get changed right away.

She felt slightly guilty about dragging Gohan with her, but without him she could never find Vegeta. That's where her mind lead her to- just how would he react when he saw them? His mood… she just tried her best to avoid thinking about it, her brow creasing with worry. She could hear the shouts then and there.

Luckily, Gohan came back only a minute later, flexing his arms in his deep purple body suit, smiling as he did so. "Ah, it feels good- hey Bulma, are you okay?"

"Hm? Not really," she sighed, flopping her hand from her chin to the controls again. "I guess I'm just worried about seeing him again. The last time was- kind of a disaster."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that. What exactly happened?"

The increasingly stressed woman went on to explain to him about the incident of the tracking devices, of how she had missed the fight between Saiyan and Namekien.

"My gosh, Bulma. Was that the last you heard of him? Has Piccolo been able to sense him at all?"

"If he has, Gohan, then he hasn't told me," she ground out. Seeing the look of shock and disappointment on his young face only increased her guilt tenfold. Even if she couldn't find Vegeta over the past weekend, it was ultimately down to her that he was driven from CC. Her grip on the wheel got tighter. "It was only because you called me can I actually find him at all. You have no idea how tense I've been all weekend! How are we meant to know how he's sleeping? Or eating? What the hell does he do all day on a planet he's only ever been to once for a few freaking hours! _And _he just got out of a fight!" She glanced at Gohan. "How badly was he hurt, did you say?"

"Err, I didn't," he gulped.

Bulma recognised the look of dread on his face, probably because of her ranting. He didn't have to suffer as well. "But how bad are his injuries?"

"Well, when you say injuries… and bad…"

"Gohan," she drawled. "On a scale of one to ten, one being just a scratch and ten being decapitation, how bad is he?"

It was a long time before he replied with two and adverting his eyes. All Bulma could do was stare blankly out the windscreen. _A two? I'm lead to believe he's out there suffering, but he's only a fucking two?_ Bulma wanted to slap herself for her over reaction, wishing that she's known all the information before jetting out there herself. It was because of other people's apathy that she, along with a child, were chasing after an intergalactic terrorist. And if she was going through all this trouble then god help everyone if he mysteriously wasn't there-

"Hello? Bulma, can you hear me?" Gohan's hand ligtly poked her on the arm.

It was enough to quickly pull her out of her trance. "What is it?"

"I said 'do you think we're doing the right thing?'"

"I hope so, Gohan," she sighed. Looking out across the wide expanses of land below, she felt as though she needed to apologise for her shorter than average temper. "It's just, as long as he's on earth, he's a threat- or at least, I thought he was. I invited him to stay at CC because he had nowhere else to go and as much as he's a- terrible house guest," (she had almost said shitty, but stopped herself in time) "I realise that I've been just as- terrible a hostess. And human or not, nobody should be homeless. It's tough enough for born and bred humans to live on earth at all, let alone in the wilderness for months on end…"

What he had actually meant was _do you think we're doing the right thing about lying to my mum_, but that worked too. "Yeah, I know the feeling," he shrugged. Those months being trained by Piccolo were simply gruelling.

She watched him for a minute, wondering at what point the shy son of Goku had become so… understanding. She never had much experience, but she knew that Gohan wasn't like many other kids, but for that she was grateful, she was never a good baby sitter anyway.

"Why don't you have a look through here," she suggested. "I got some 'souvenirs' from my lab and wrote out a bunch of note. Maybe you could copy them into your notebook while we're flying." Facing the horizon once more, she listened to his pen scratching down the genius schematics and her internal voice made a promise. _You can't hide forever, Vegeta. One way or another, you'll be back. _

…

Bulma had chosen her speediest air car to take them and now they didn't have to worry about an increase in their Ki, they could fly just as fast, if not faster than Gohan could. Therefore it only took just under an hour to reach the mountain in the West and the forest skirt. It's thick canopy made landing a problem so grudgingly that had to land in a small meadow some distance away from where they had intended and, capsulating the machine, they walked their way through the wood. As expected, Gohan took it in his stride, but Bulma did have a little trouble keeping up. Not everybody can just leap over giant logs and dodge every thick fern. She lost count of how many times she had stumbled, and even landed on her bottom with pained grunts and cursing every woodland creature that seemed to laugh at her with their little noises and songs.

Finally, with constant help, the boy stopped dead and signalled that they had arrived to where the full blood had last been seen. Needless to say, Bulma didn't look impressed; each patch of forest looked identical to the last and this was no exception, but it was eerily quiet. _Perfect place for a creep like him_, she mused.

"Is he here now?" she asked, stepping over a shrub with tiny purple flowers on it.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? You have Ki senses, unlike me."

"I mean he must be somewhere else, or he's hiding it," was his unfazed reply. "If we keep walking and I find it easier to sense him, then he must have moved on. If not, then he's picked up Ki techniques better than we all thought.

_True_, thought Bulma. She had learnt recently that Vegeta had began to use the earthling skill on Namek, though none of them were sure if this was a good thing. _But I'll admit I'm impressed at how quick he picked it up, and all by himself, too_-

_All by himself, _her mind echoed. _Let's not forget the reason why we're here at all. _

"Shall we keep moving?" the boy asked, already pulling aside a thick branch for her like a gentleman.

Her blue gaze swept the little clearing- one might not even call it that at all, it was that small- kicked at the ground. "Why does that man always have to ruin things?" she grumbled. Walking past Gohan, she agreed to move on, but not for too long. The rest of her words were lost as the duo moved on.

Still as a statue, Vegeta watched them disappear in the lush greenery below, only relaxing when their voices faded to nothing. He still supressed his energy though, like he had been doing constantly for days. Ever since that little brat turned up, His hunting trips had severely diminished. Speaking of which, he was getting hungry again. Living in the wilderness was tough for anybody, but with a Saiyan appetite it was downright depressing. He glanced longingly at the tiny stash of stolen campers food next to him, along with some apples and once single peach.

It was better than nothing though. And having nothing was better than some humans fetching him like a little lost child. He had faced such humiliation ever since he first landed on this pathetic mud ball of a planet; he just wanted to avoid any more embarrassment. Looking at his scabbed hands, he cursed his mistake in battle a few days ago. His Saiyan genes would normally be half way done with healing them, but the scabs on his hands weren't thick enough yet, and they would occasionally weep with dirtied blood. _Protein_, he thought. _Protein is what I need_. He slid from the tallest branch when at duck and stalked into the shadows for prey, his scavenged snacks in the tree long forgotten.

…

Pulling a branch out of her way, Bulma glumly followed the young boy, who as always had striven ahead with ease. The two were searching for a space big enough to pop the capsule containing their jet as they were really pushing for time. Which is why when she not only managed to catch up to Gohan, but walk past him completely, she was completely confused.

"Hey, what's with the hold up?" she asked. She noticed that he was staring thoughtfully at the trees and she started to worry. "What's wrong, can you sense something? Do you think it's bad?"

Gohan offered her an innocent look and said, "No. I was just looking at those guys."

Bulma followed his hand and saw what he had been pointing at and released her tense shoulders. On a lower branch, hidden from the suns sharp glares but still bright enough to see was a bird's nest. In it lay a single magpie pecking at its bill and rustling its feathers. Bulma couldn't help but stare at its long black wings as it stretched them in its bed. She was about to ask Gohan what he meant by _those guys_ if this solitary magpie was on its own when form over their heads swooped down another bird. Like it's mate, it was black and white, but only when it glided through the sun beams did she see the typical but stunning sheen of deep blue in its feathers.

"One for sorrow, two for joy," she mumbled.

"Hey, my dad knows that one too," the boy half laughed. "He always says it when we see magpies. I wonder if there are any eggs in there," he added with smile.

Swiping her blue hair out of her eyes, she said, "You like bird watching much?"

"I just like nature, I guess. My dad used to take me out every day and he's tell me about all the different animals and plants, including the kinds that heals wounds."

"You don't mind talking about him now, do you?" she asked. She could hear Chi-Chi's words from a month ago ringing in her ears; _I know he's not okay. He looks _haunted_, Bulma…_

"Not really. I still miss him, but it's not so bad because I'll get to see him in a couple of months, won't I?

"Less than that, actually. We're already a week into our third month, so you keep counting down the days! I know I am," she added under her breath. "C'mon. Your mum's going to kill me if you're even five minutes late, so let's get out of here!" They both gave one last look at the next before darting home once more.

Even once she had dropped off Gohan (who had been practising his CC stories to perfection), she couldn't help but feel pleased by the sighting of those woodland birds, but there was something else, something that she couldn't shift- the feeling that she'd forgotten something vital. Geniuses like her hated that feeling. It was only as the first rays of sun filtered through her curtains the next day did she realise it, when the birds songs by her window rung through the fresh air.

_Birdsong! That's it!_

…

Picking at the scarce bone, the Saiyan quickly gave up and tossed it aside, not needing to watch its long decent to know it landed with the rest of them at the base of his tree. Last night, he had been able to catch a some rabbits, only about six, but with his ginormous appetite it hadn't helped too much. The only reason he felt somewhat better was because it was the first bit of meat he had had in days, even if it was lean, and stringy, and little of it. What he really wanted was to catch a deer. The airhead blonde back in the city had a couple of times served up some venison. He liked the divine tenderness of it-

He pulled himself away with a grunt of annoyance. Food had only ever been a necessity to him before, never a luxury. He wasn't about to start thinking otherwise.

Suddenly, his sharp ears picked up rustling in the shadows, growing louder and louder with each passing second. He strained his new found Ki senses but whatever it was, it was too small to be picked up yet. Just before it came into sight, he had a sensed it and his brow furrowed with recognition. He muttered a curse when he saw a shock of aqua hair pop from the bushes. The woman who his dislike had increasingly grown dusted herself down and plucked some leaves from her growing locks. She didn't realise it'd be even harder without Gohan's help.

Looking around the place, Bulma looked for any evidence that he was still here, any sign that this was the right place. This place looked exactly like everywhere else, so there was nothing unique about it, apart from a bigger than average tree.

But, there was a big tree, now to mention it with leaves thicker than its neighbours. On her tiptoes, Bulma squinted in its lush green clouds but it was nothing but dark green shadows amongst sunbeams. He watched with curiosity as she padded around the tree, disappearing for a few seconds behind its vast barks, repeating her steps in an ever growing circle. Above her, the prince was watching with an increasing sense of dread as she got closer and closer to his 'rubbish tip' close by. He had been foolish enough to just leave it there in the first place.

Sure enough, her avid eyes soon found it, hidden behind another purple floral shrub. "Aha!" she cried as she surveyed about a dozen foil squares littered on the forest floor. They were open, having lost its high calorie bland foods, and lying next to a scattering of apple cores.

"The games up, Vegeta!" she suddenly called out, "You can come out now!" She wandered in circles, searching in every direction apart from up. He slid deeper into the shadows as she carelessly ambled around the tree, still calling out to him.

"I know you're here, monkey boy, and you can guarantee that I'm _not _walking away _again _until you drag your sorry self out here. _Come on!_" she yelled in an almost pleading tone. Her beckoning had lasted for several minutes and there was still no sign of him. "Maybe… maybe he isn't here after all." She said to herself. He blue eyes looked at the rubbish pile again. "Even if it was him… he would surly have moved on by now."

Closing her eyes and muttering a curse, she sighed heavily before slowly doing the walk of shame out of here. She had been so sure of herself too.

She stopped very quickly when she heard the rustle of bushes behind her. Whipping her body around she shook with horror as a veracious looking sabre toothed tiger stalked out of its dark hiding place, walking towards her with predatory slowness. She could feel her every muscle trembling as it got closer and closer.

"N-n-nice kitty… good kitty… with giant teeth and sharp c-claws!" she squeaked. She fisted her flexed her hands, searching for an imaginary weapon since her sights refused to budge from its bloodthirsty snarl. In her tottering steps away from it, she fell and landed roughly on the hard ground, leaving her in an even more defenceless position.

_This is it, _she internally whimpered. Bandits, giant monkeys, crazy emperors and an alien planet, and she was going to die alone in a forest by a cat!

The creature bunched its hind legs and sunk into its hunting position, ready to pounce. She squeezed her eyes as tight as they would go and all Bulma could think of was, _why does all this shit happen to me?_

She waited for the stab of it sabre teeth and for her pale skin to be ripped to shreds. Instead, she heard, or rather felt, something hit the ground hard behind her and gave a growl to outmatch the tiger before her. Peeping with only one eye, she watched as the tiger practically shrink and darting in the opposite direction. For a split second, she wanted to laugh at the sight, one again escaping death, before remembering about the thing behind her. She gulp and twisted her head slowly.

Towering over her was the prince of jerks himself, still baring his teeth at the fleeing carnivore. She scooted away from him and scrambled to stand up.

"Vegeta!" she cried. "Way to scare that thing away, but next time, does it a little sooner, okay? God, I honestly thought that was end of me!"

"Next time," he murmured. He snorted at the thought, though she didn't seem to hear any of it. "That thing's been after my food ever since I caught it."

Bulma looked closely at him, narrowing her eyes. "Say, where you here this entire time? Because if you were then why don't you show up earlier? That whole thing could've been avoided and wouldn't have had my life in danger thanks to you!"

His face was blank but the glare he gave her was so harsh she felt it was burning through her. "Just- fuck off."

"Hey-!"

He leapt into the air and flew to the highest branch of his little nest. Leaning back against the trunk, he waited (somewhat) patiently for her shouts of abuse to fade- the woman was stubborn, but she was no match for his highness. It took a while, but it eventually did. In the meantime, he kept a running count of all the names she called him, some really quite imaginative and disgusting.

Finally, they stopped, but he didn't open his eyes but chose to enjoy the peace of his little victory. He did open them, however, when the branch next to him shuddered with a _clang_. Wrapped around it was large metal hook and steely rope, swinging slightly from side to side as looked down. Slowly working her way up was the idiot human herself, the wire shrinking into a device on her belt.

"If Batman can have one, why can't I?"

He hated the smug look she gave him when she hoisted her small body onto the opposite branch. With feigned enthusiasm she complimented his choice of habitat, sarcastically remarking on the comfort of the barky arms and deadly height.

He ignored her the best he could, even when she asked him how he had been. Vegeta bit his tongue, wanting to spew his curse at her but he refused to give her the satisfaction.

So they sat in silence for a while, Bulma starting to feel awkward getting and he growing more and more annoyed by her presence but it was obvious that she wasn't going anywhere when she too leant back into the trunk like he did.

When he watched her take a book out of her bag in the corner of his eye, he finally snapped. "What are you eve doing here? Foolish girl."

"I'm just enjoying a nice day out in the woods, until I came across you that it."

"Bullshit!"

She slammed the book shut. She had wanted to talk to him but seemed like all they could do was argue. "Okay, maybe I wasn't! If you really want to know, I was trying to find _you_. The whole weekend you just disappeared off the face of the planet but not in the way we want you to be! Kami knows what you've been doing and for the sake of my planet I hope you don't do any more damage!"

"Ooh, damage! A pack of disgusting camper's food and a few rabbits! What is this world coming to?" he sarcastically spat out.

"And you expect me to believe that's it?" she fumed.

He gave her no other answer but a scowl and the two fell back into silence again. He drummed his fingers impatiently on his arm as she picked up her book again. It was clear that she wasn't going anywhere and he'll be damned if _he_ were the one to would move. He was here first and he was not going to run away again. Besides, she'll want to go when it gets dark.

She had returned to her book a while ago. Ever since her trip through space she had indulged in a little bit of Astronomy in her spare time. At the time, seeing the endless vacuumed mottled with little white dots tended to lose their effect on her, but now she could start giving names to them, she wished she had paid more attention. It was just a little late. The chapter about satellites and space travel enthralled her completely and every turn of the page came quicker, and in her excitement, noisier than the last. Every scratch of paper grated on his ears and echoed tenfold in his head.

"If you don't stop that infernal noise right now I'll destroy that stupid thing!"

"Okay, first thing, books aren't stupid. This was written by one of the brightest Astronomy professors ever!" she said tersely. "Secondly, it'd be impossible to read without turning the goddamn pages- or are you so illiterate you don't know?"

"I am perfectly literate and fluent in _several _languages! More than you could ever hope to be," said haughtily.

"For one who knows so much on how to speak to people, you don't do it very often…" she settled her back against the tree again and glared at him in the corner of her eye. "And when you do, it's never anything nice."

"Will you just shut up already?"

"See? My point proven."

He growled at her and swung his face away. He wasn't about to say anything to fuel her argument.

"And for the record, you think it's loud just because it's the only sound around here," she shrugged. From the way his eyebrows tense ever so slightly more with just a hint of curiosity, she knew he was listening. "That's how I found you, Tarzan. I didn't realise at the time, but when I came here yesterday, it was deadly silent. Not a single scuttle nor chirp. Do you hear anything now?" she paused for more for effect rather than expecting an answer. "I don't think so and I had one conclusion left in my mind- they were all scared away!"

"Anything can scare an animal away, woman-"

"But in the exact same place that you were last seen? The _exact _same place?" she chucked dryly. "I don't think so, pal."

Bulma pretended not to notice the steely look he gave her as she packed the thick book away in her backpack. She dug a little deeper and pulled out a purple Tupperware box with a greedy grin on her face. Cradling the base, she waited until she could feel the slight warm seeping through. It wasn't much but it was still enough to make her mouth water even more.

It's a good thing she had tied herself to the branch when she opened the little box she was afraid she would fall off as the heavenly smell caressed her senses. Inside were six perfect dumplings, some vegetable, some lamb. Wiggling her fingers, she chose one at random and gobbled it down in no time. Before she knew it, half of them had already disappeared with the fourth halfway to her mouth. Glancing over at Vegeta who was doing his best to ignore her chomps. She would have felt smug had it not been for his subtle swallow. He chewing slowed as she looked at the last two in the box and back to him.

Wobbling slightly, Bulma stretched out her arm to offer him the delicious, though small, food. "You want them?"

He looked at her small frame tremble as she held up the little shiny box. He could smell rather than see it and his mind begged him to cave and accept it. Even without a Saiyan appetite, it had been days since his last good, filling meal and his stomach felt like it was going to collapse on itself out of cannibalism. But even that wasn't about to sway him from his pride.

"No."

"No?"

"There is nothing I want from you," he spat with vehemence. "Nothing I can't get myself, I am here because I want to be." He slid off the branch and made a light drop to the ground. He grumbled under his breath, "I actually thought I'd be safe from your whiny, bitchy little voice for once."

Fearing that he had actually decided to leave, Bulma peered down at the ground, her aqua hair falling around her face. "Hey! Where do you think you're going? It was only one simple dumpling, dammit! It's not anything b- _crap!_" she yelled as he suddenly fazed out of sight one hundred feet below only to right in front of her. He was so fast that she leapt back and tumbled head over heels off the wide branch, her body jarring as the metal rope twanged to stop her.

"What did I just say? I can get my own damn food, Earthling!" he shouted at her and waved a foil square in front of her wide eyes. "There's nothing for you to gloat over!"

"You bastard!" she screamed. "You absolute bastard, you have any idea what would have happened if I hadn't have secured myself with this rope? I'd have died, thanks to you because unlike _some _people I can't fly!"

"Blah!" he snorted and turned away. "Shows how weak you really are. On my planet-" He snapped his mouth shut, his gaze travelled down as he mentally berated himself for falling back on that old line. As a child, he would be punished for comparing anything to Vegeta-sei. It had taken a long time, and countless punishments, before he forced himself to talk as though the ruby red planet had never existed.

"Well, we're not _on _your planet, you're on mine and it's safe to say that flying isn't actually a normal thing, okay? People still freak out. "

He resisted rolling his dark eyes, already knowing the frenzy these wimpy creatures get themselves into. He slumped against the deep brown bark and, making sure the woman was watching, used his teeth to open his supper.

With one busy and the other one wondering what to do next, a few minutes passed in silence. Looking up at the heavy canopy, Bulma looked through a large gap and saw how the sky was now a dark grey and checked her watch in confusion.

She tutted. "The clocks were set back yesterday. That means the days are getting shorter as the seasons change-"

"Please, don't think that you're precious mudball is so unique in that sense. There isn't a planet out there that doesn't have some form of weather changing patterns."

"Alright Mr Smarty-pants, point proven." She said. "But it'll start getting really cold soon. How about we make a fire?"

"How about you go away? Solves both of our problems."

She pretended to have heard that. "I don't know about you, but a fire might be just the thing we thing we need to pull you out of that pout you've got yourself into. And it might make you food taste better. It looks horrible." She now stood shakily on her feet, one hand trailing the rough wood next to her. "Well, come one!"

"What?" he said gruffly.

"Use that oh so impressive power to make a fire. An energy ball made out of Ki, whatever you guys do."

Though his face said otherwise, he felt anxious at her request, like a child that had been caught doing something wrong. He crossed his arms and turned away lightly with a great scorn. He could feel his palms refusing to fist due to the blotches of dried blood where his wounds hadn't fully healed. This morning they had oozed green pus though he had repeatedly bathed them in the cool streams of the woods. The last time he attempted to summon up Ki in his hands was the previous morning, and the little progress they had at healing was ruined as the small but numerous cuts had reopened and stabbed the highly sensitive nerves in his fingers, biting him from the inside out.

The was by no means a bad injury, he'd had many worse (including his torso sporting a giant hole and his left leg nearly ripped off), but it was the infection that had delayed a usually swift recovery. And he needed his hands for the very same reason as the wrench. It was all her fault to begin with.

He glanced back at the woman in question to see her pulling a large dark green piece of material from her seemingly bottomless backpack. In no time at all she had clambered to the low branch above her and started to secure one end to it, tugging it as she went. It was only as she started on the other end did he recognise it as some sort of hammock, only this one had a zip to secure it up.

She reached her original branch again, slightly out of breath from holding her own weight. "Not bad, eh? Well, it wasn't a good idea to have a fire in a tree anyway, so good thing you didn't just ignite the poor forest," she laughed. Her chuckles faded however when his head sank lower. Was it just her imagination, or did he just sigh? Half focusing on pulling her mosquito net open, she stole a quick glimpse at him surreptitiously staring at his palm. It was only then she noticed that his hands weren't covered with white material. _Huh, when did that happen? _She thought. _He had them on the last time I saw him-_

Stopping her thoughts midsentence, she suddenly recalled what Piccolo had told her last week about how his attack was cut off. Slumping her shoulders, she thought about the blood that had apparently dripped down his wrists in front of the Namekiens. She thought of how long ago that had happened.

Chichi's words rang through her ears again._ "He's probably just crawled into a tree to lick his wounds as they say."_

_Oh god, Chichi. If only you could see him._

Bulma once again gazed at the Saiyan, who had taken to watching the darkening sky through the canopy. With any luck, there would be stars tonight, something he had always found himself drawn to. It was time when he got to finally be alone, whether it be in a space pod or amongst sleeping soldiers, he felt like only he could see them. If he could he'd be out there right now revelling in his new found freedom-

_Clang! _With a start, the man whipped his head to the source of sound above him, seeing the dark metal claw with its chokehold on an unsuspecting branch. He followed its tense grey wire back to the source of the woman's belt as she leant back. Taking deep breaths, she forced her feet to push her forward as she clung to the hard rope with pale hands. Like a pendulum, her body smoothly speeded through the air only to collide with an oof with his branch, feeling it shudder beneath him a bit and her face just inches away from his smooth white boots.

It took a while, but she managed to crawl her way up into a sitting position, noting how much narrower this one was since she could straddle it with her boots dangling lazily over the sides.

"Let me see your hands."

"What? No, for god sakes, leave me alone." He sputtered. _How could she possibly know a thing like this?_

She grunted in exasperation. "Look, Piccolo told me that you hurt your hands. I just need to see if they're okay." She levelled his death glare with one of her own. She threw her own clear white hands in the air. "Look, I won't touch, I won't moan. Just one look and I'll leave it at that, okay? Let me see your hands," she repeated.

He watched her expression for any trace of deceit. Her eyes burned with fury, that he could tell, but not with dishonesty. With slow and hesitant movements, he lowered one palm between them facing up. As promised, she didn't lay a finger on them, but she winced at the numerous blackish brown scabs that were crusting along the delicate creases in his skin. Vegeta could hear her hiss as she cringed and supressed the urge to pull his hand away.

Holding her hair back, she leant forward to take a closer look and, like a bird about to feed from his hand, sniffed the air before pulling back with a wrinkled nose.

"Urgh," she moaned. "That's infected."

"I knew that," he growled.

"Is the other one like it?" she watched as he looked away, tucking his hand back to match the other, she just knew. Finally, as she was close enough to get a good look at him, she figured out what Gohan had meant by "not looking too good". He had dark circle under his eyes and his skin was smudged in grime yet, underneath, he was paler that she remembered him being. Seeing it, she wished that she hadn't finished those dumplings and had forced them down his throat instead.

But instead of hassling him, she intended to do as she promised- just leave it. In time, she transferred clumsily back to her hammock and spent a while setting down. It was a good thing she had brought her battery run electric sleeping bag.

Leaning over the edge, she called out to him. "Hey, Vegeta! Do want my spare blanket? Its getting pretty cold."

He shook his head. "Why don't you save your weak body and head home if you're so worried about a little chill?"

"Same reason as you, tough guy," she chuckled. "Because I don't want to!"


	18. Clearing Up Old Wounds

~ **discalimer**: I own nothing except my brain. Don't take that away from poor little me !

~**A/N**: gosh, if I could tell you what's been happening lately to explain why I'm so late updating this (as well as a problem with my account). I'm very sorry! :S oh if I could tell you! But- I won't, you're here to read Bulma and Vegeta's story, not mine so... ENJOY

~**R&R please x**

Vegeta watched with disdain as she squirmed her way deeper into that deep green cocoon of hers and even when her absurd coloured hair had disappeared, he could hear her muffled grunts as she at least attempted to get comfy. In the rapidly dimming light, he waited until the gentle sways of her hammock stopped and she was silent. It was the first time in her company where he didn't have to listen to her whiny little voice. It was a strange thought, one he tried to get his head around. He couldn't.

And there was also the fact that she was actually here. He had left her home, her property, and chosen to stay in wild solitude, yet here she was, clawing and climbing her way into _his _territory, _his _seclusion. Whenever she was near, something went horribly wrong and like a bad smell, she wouldn't simply leave him be. It was like Dodoria all over again-

Teeth slammed together as he mentally chastised himself for allowing himself to foolishly think back to the days that he swore to put an end to. He tried to run his hand through his dark spikes of hair, but with his palms still crusty and ripped, all he succeeded in doing was spreading the foul stickiness across his temple. Realising too late,his ever so slightly haggard breathing stopped and he pulled them away with unveiled look of disgust on his face.

The prince simply leant to the right and let gravity do the rest. Easily landing on the dark soils below as if it were a mere foot drop rather than a hundred, Vegeta promptly stalked off in a supposedly random direction, roughly bashing aside the bushes and branches with the back of his hands as he did so, at one point shoving his elbow deep into a poor oak as his muttering grew louder. "That blasted wrench… thinks she could just… _my _territory! After what _she _did!" Kicking hard at some looped branch that breached to dirt, he heard a groan as the shadowed tree lost the support underneath and leant on its neighbour for support. "Calling me as though I were a lost dog- a pitiful child!"

His ears picked up the trickle of water nearby at last and he bent his steps towards the sound. Shaking his head, he mentally ranked Earth high in his list of the times where he had been most insulted then pushes aside the last flimsy branch. Before him was a small meadow, but large enough so that when it was windy, the currents would channel their way to the ground. He was vaguely aware from that morning the lush canopy above him dancing that it must have been windy, and that was some distance away from here. As it was, there were several scatterings of leaves on the ground now.

This was one reason he stayed in the deeper parts of the forest. The short walk meant nothing to him every day as he visited the babbling brook that chimed like bells in the dark. The sun had set completely, but the wind earlier had swept away the clouds to reveal the trillions of stars he had dashed through his whole life. Only now they looked different- another solar system, another view.

He crouched by the water and took a moment to grimace at the sight of his pus over his eye. He was used to blood and worse, gore really didn't bother him anymore, but from his own wounds and near his sensitive nose, he just wanted to get it off. It's not like he was being stopped by anything, like a space pod or mission reports. Some things were more important than cleanliness; it wasn't uncommon for him to go hours, if not days soaked in blood or other things.

A growl almost escaped him as he studied his reflection harder, no longer looking at the pink smudge on his forehead. Even in the gloom, Vegeta easily locked eyes with himself, mentally yelling at himself, _Why? Why did he decide to head to Earth? It wasn't urgent! Why was he here now? And why, oh why, was he not the one to defeat that bastard Frieza? _

"I should have been the one to avenge my people," he whispered. Unlike his thoughts, his voice came out in a voice so low it almost didn't exist. "To save them… and myself. I don't need anybody's help, I never will-"

He cut himself off, remembering something from a while ago. In that first week, the most common words he heard were, _Is everything alright, Vegeta? Can I help you?_ And every time he said no. It never deterred her.

Judging how the female had tracked him down, he guessed it still hadn't deterred her.

_If I'm even half as bad as she is, I can finally understand how infamous I am to those who know me, _he thought. HE wasn't sure if it was his thoughts attempt at humour or not, so he ignored it, as usual.

He sighed, and dropped from his crouch to his knees completely. He was right earlier; she was much like Dodoria when it came to shaking her off. Like hounds, they zoned into his location, he just knew it. Clear memories of when he was a child, when the atrocious pink imbecile's shadow would appear by his boots, no matter where he went. For a while after the obliteration of his home, the prince was treated almost well by the Ice-jin himself- but sooner or later the welcome wears off and he became a soldier in the Planet Trade Organisation. It was inevitable. Frieza no longer called for his monkey daily, or to be plain "social", especially as he was growing up. No, he had business to attend to, taking the slick, skilled Zarbon with him and leaving the brawny barbarian Dodoria in charge of the troops, with a few key favourites to "keep a special eye on".

Yes, both of them had a sixth sense for tracking him down. Though, he cautiously admitted only to himself, as there was no real threat from the earthling, it wasn't as bad. Dodoria was dangerous, the woman was just annoying. He didn't like either, but if he had to choose, he knew which one he'd rather be stuck with. He wasn't that stupid.

He flung his hands into stream and didn't flinch at how cold it was as he focused on gently rubbing the pus away. Methodically rinsing his hands again and again until the sticky feeling soon left his palms and the coldness numbed the very edges of the gashes so that they didn't quite itch anymore. His hands washed, his face cleared and his thirst quenched, the prince leant over the stream until the water ran smooth again, as though his violent splashing had never happened. He saw his features again, still as sullen as before, but without malice, one might say calmer (one who had never known the man).

Refreshed and relaxed, Vegeta slowly made his way back and taking his time about it. He kept his senses on alert as always, but allowed his eyes to wander around him. Unlike the woman, he could easily distinguish one part of the forest to another, but only out of necessity. Every chance she got, the blue haired creature would hark about her planet- the weather, the food, the culture- and surreptitiously she made it clear that she feared for it greatly, as if pleading the strong warrior to leave it be. For the first time in his memory, he wasn't on a planet to purge, or take orders. He was never sent to the watery planet and he was here out of his choices and as a result, he had time. He could notice the different flavours of its unique pallet, he could view the celestial stars from a different angle, he could even taste the difference between the metallic tepid water on the space ships, and the cool freshness of the simple stream.

The planet meant nothing to him, it really didn't. It wasn't Earth he was experiencing, it was Time. If he wanted to destroy this planet, he would. He'd wait and see how he felt at the time, because now he had that option. And until that time came- when he had finally had his vengeance on the not-yet-resurrected Saiyan- Vegeta wanted as much time as possible to prepare himself for the victorious moment.

He stood tall and glared at the sky, as if daring it to object to his scheme. Afterwards, there was nobody there at all. The stream trickled on as always.

…

The first thing Bulma felt when she woke up was the way she was laying. She was bent slightly in the middle, like a banana, though she didn't know why and, seeing as she had yet to open her eyes, she actually didn't care. Completely forgetting that she was cocooned in her sleeping bag, she didn't pause to think why she had to unzip her way out of bed, or why the air was chilly on bare hand and she reached out for her alarm clock on her bedside table. Grunting in annoyance, she stretched her hand further with her fingers splayed out in her groggy search to find it.

Suddenly, the bed shifted out from underneath her, her floppy body rolling into mid-air as her scream rang though the air. Without remembering why she was so high up, she braced her for the inevitable crash landing however far below- until something went twang above her and brought her body to a painful stop immediately. The force knocked the air out of her completely, leaving Bulma breathless and disorientated, swaying from side to side like leaf in the breeze.

It was then she suddenly remembered where she was, and what just happened. She half laughed, half sighed at how something simple as keeping the rope tied around her waist had saved her life. So far her life had proven to be downright dangerous- oh she liked danger, no doubt, but mortal danger went to a different level. She went through the same, if not less, that Son did as a young boy but he always came out unscathed and unfazed. The moment she found out that her unstoppable best friend had been an alien; there had been a little voice in her head saying, _Duh! That explains it!_

Speaking of aliens…

"Kami, where did that jerk run off to now?" she grumbled. She climbed back onto her own branch before she grudgingly added, "It's not like I can keep up or anything…"

After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she blearily saw the last of her dumplings from the night before. When she moved over to his side of the tree to see his hands, she surreptitiously snuck the box over and conveniently left t there for him to discover by himself. He either mustn't have noticed it, or he ignored it completely. She had a feeling it was the latter.

Sighing, Bulma felt the rare feeling of her stubbornness subside, and although she hated to admit it, she was seriously considering giving up on helping him. It wasn't like the man had deserved it to begin with, and he wasn't the sort of man who had a good side to get on.

_If I'm even half as bad as he is, I feel sorry for everyone who knows me_, she thought. She almost wanted to laugh, if it wasn't for the yawn that followed.

The journey home passed quickly to the discouraged woman. Her things were packed up in record time, and then she chose to stay off auto-pilot merely as something to do. She was in no rush- looking at her watch when she woke, it was 6:47, and she didn't fancy arriving home too early in the day. It would no doubt make her day feel longer and, as many perfectionists would having failed, it was one she'd rather not face.

Still, when Bulma had heard a recognizable crash on route to her room, she headed in the general direction. It appeared to have come from one of the many comfortable guest rooms. Strange, they had no indoor guests, not after-

Bright blue eyes settled on the door which sounded like it was grumbling to itself with annoyance. Torn between disbelief and relief, she decided that she needed to see it with her own eyes. Anxiously wrapping her hand around the handle, Bulma took a quick breath and literally fell in with her haste to open the white wooden door.

And there, perched on the edge of the bed was the source of all her problems. Little under a week ago, he had vanished and now, sitting with an assortment of basic medical supplies fanned out beside him, with the Prince himself. His sharp face was glaring at each item in turn as though they he couldn't decide which one to use first. He gave no indication that he had noticed the flabbergast woman by the door, one of her eyes twitching.

"But… when- why? Veg… What?"

Vegeta continued to study his collection, picking something up before putting it down to pick up another. She was still standing there is shock when out of nowhere he used his sharp nails to rake violently across his palms with one hand. Bulma covered her mouth with her own shaking hand, resisting the urge to gag as he again and again opened up what little healing his blistered skin had. She trotted over to the attached bathroom to grab a towel. On the floor were some more bathroomy stuff- toothpaste, deodorant and all that scattered on the floor with the medicine cabinet swaying open, explaining the crash.

Closing it with a slight click, Bulma went on the grab a small towel in a warm tone of gold then spread it on the bed right underneath Vegeta's blood (amazingly his own) soaked hands. She pretended to ignore the warning flash in his eyes, blazing with contempt through a passive face. At least he recognised her presence now.

He was quick with his treatment yet thorough and in no time, he was reaching for a long white bandage. Bulma grabbed it instead. "Oh, you shouldn't do that until you put some of this cream on your cuts," she insisted. She held out a small blue tube and attempted a small smile. "It disinfects and cools whilst speeding up the whole healing process. Family recipe," she added.

Vegeta glared with hard eyes at her, his mind blown with how changeable this woman can be- polite to bitchy, nosey and uninterested, so how dare she smile when he tended to his wounds, the very ones she (according to his backward logic) caused. He fought to keep his eye from twitching as he snatched the cream from her and slammed it to the bed.

"I don't need your help, so why don't you just make yourself useful somewhere else?" he grounded out.

She looked taken aback but not surprised by his rudeness. "You'll never ask for help even when you _do _need it, so how the hell am I supposed to know when or how to give it to you?"

"Spare yourself the trouble, it's obvious you've only got a little mind and we don't want you to overdo it, do we?" he said with hardly any humour. Before she could reply, he made sure to add, "And before you ask, I came back for my own reasons. Mine, not yours. So leave."

He turned back to the job literally at hand, pulling out the cotton wads that could cushion his cuts from the tight wrap round bandages later. Bulma sat there statue still.

"Fine!" She jumped up and through the bandage packet at him, bouncing off his shoulder. "I'm hungry anyway. If his highness deems our morsels worthy, he might deem it possible to join us, maybe? She barked over her shoulder. Like when she had first walked in, he was dutifully concentrated on anything other than her. She shook her head and walked out. As she shut the door, she caught him quickly pinching the bridge of his nose. She also saw him pick up the healing cream she left out. If she had closed the door a fraction quicker, she'd have missed it altogether.

Out in the hall, she her march slowed. There was no denying it, everybody needs help, even the oh-so-mighty Prince of Saiyan's, even if it were forced on him. But forcing it didn't seem to be working. Instead a more… surreptitious approach was needed. The hand cream, the talk to come back (despite his claims, what reason would he actually have?).

She buzzed the nearest intercom, waiting for someone to reply. As expected it was her mother.

"Hey, mum," Bulma greeted. Having made peace with her yesterday, and the drastic change of direction with her day so far, Bulma was feeling a little more happy than usual, something Bunny picked up on the line.

"Oh, morning sweetie, I didn't hear you get back. Having a good day so far?"

"Yeah you could say that. Say, what about you fix us up some breakfast?"

"Your father and I have already eaten, but what would you fancy?"

"Anything. Everything. Just make lots and lots of it, okay? Imagine your feeding ten of me…"

There was silence for a second. "… He's back isn't he?" Bulma heard her mum squeal on the other end. "Poor thing must we famished! Don't worry, I'll make sure breakfast is perfect."

Bulma smiled on the other end, even when the line was cut off.

"I'm not worried at all."

~**A/N**: okay, I have an idea for another chapter for Copy Cat- thought I want to know what you think: keep Copy Cat as it is and do a 'sequel' or just continue?


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